Faringdon Hill. Book II (Henry James Pye Poems)
The sultry hours are past, and Phobus nowSpreads yellower rays along the mountain's brow:The broken clouds unnumber'd tints display,Drinking the ...
The sultry hours are past, and Phobus nowSpreads yellower rays along the mountain's brow:The broken clouds unnumber'd tints display,Drinking the ...
At that dread season when th' indignant NorthPour'd to vain wars her tardy numbers forth,When Frederic bent his ear to ...
Hail sacred Peace, who claim'st thy bright abode,Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God.Before his arm, around the ...
Dear M---- By way of saving time,I'll do this letter up in rhyme,Whose slim stream through four pages flowsEre one is ...
Two years have elapsed since the verse of S. W. Met your bright eyes like a fanciful gem;With that kind of ...
In elder days, in Saturn's prime,Ere baldness seized the head of Time,While truant Jove, in infant pride,Play'd barefoot on Olympus' ...
You bid me, Ned, describe the placeWhere I, one of the rhyming race,Pursue my studies con amore,And wanton with the ...
We saw the ships come in,The whole sixteen !And sixteen thousand men, our kith and kin,Manned the white ships as ...
They talked of old campaigns, nineteen-fourteenAnd Mons and watery Yser, nineteen-fifteenAnd Neuve Chapelle, 'sixteen, 'seventeen, 'eighteenAnd after. And they grumbled, ...
It seems to me, I spend my life in stations.Going, coming, standing, waiting.Paddington, Darlington, Shrewsbury, York.I know them all most ...
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang! Bang! Tap! Tap-a-tap! Rap! All through the lead and silver Winter days, All through the ...
By the Laws of the Family Circle 'tis written in letters of brass That only a Colonel from Chatham can ...
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still-- My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English ...
Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere, And that my raptures are not conjur'd up To serve occasions of ...
KIND Sir, I've read your paper through, And faith, to me, 'twas really new! How guessed ye, Sir, what maist ...
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood An' did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within ...
In elder days, in Saturn's prime, Ere baldness seized the head of Time, While truant Jove, in infant pride, Play'd ...
After two sittings, now our Lady State To end her picture does the third time wait. But ere thou fall'st ...
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