Time (Henry Kirke White Poems)
Genius of musings, who, the midnight hourWasting in woods or haunted forests wild,Dost watch Orion in his arctic tower,Thy dark ...
Genius of musings, who, the midnight hourWasting in woods or haunted forests wild,Dost watch Orion in his arctic tower,Thy dark ...
Lo! in the west, fast fades the lingering light,And day's last vestige takes its silent flight.No more is heard the ...
PART I.Pictured in memory's mellowing glass, how sweetOur infant days, our infant joys, to greet;To roam in fancy in each ...
Ye many twinkling stars, who yet do holdYour brilliant places in the sable vaultOf night's dominions!—Planets, and central orbsOf other ...
Beams of the daybreak faint! I hailYour dubious hues, as on the robeOf night, which wraps the slumbering globe,I mark ...
"Do I not feel?" The doubt is keen as steel.Yea, I do feel—most exquisitely feel;My heart can weep, when, from ...
Thou, spirit of the spangled night!I woo thee from the watchtower high,Where thou dost sit to guide the barkOf lonely ...
Thou simple Lyre! thy music wildHas served to charm the weary hour,And many a lonely night has 'guiled,When even pain ...
I've read, my friend, of Dioclesian,And many another noble Grecian,Who wealth and palaces resigned,In cots the joys of peace to ...
The morning sun's enchanting raysNow call forth every songster's praise;Now the lark, with upward flight,Gaily ushers in the light;While wildly ...
Silence of death—portentous calm,Those airy forms that yonder flyDenote that your void foreruns a storm,That the hour of fate is ...
Sweet scented flower! who art wont to bloomOn January's front severe,And o'er the wintry desert drearTo waft thy waste perfume!Come, ...
Come, Anna! come, the morning dawns,Faint streaks of radiance tinge the skies;Come, let us seek the dewy lawns,And watch the ...
And canst thou, Mother, for a moment thinkThat we, thy children, when old age shall shedIts blanching honours on thy ...
Maiden! wrap thy mantle round thee,Cold the rain beats on thy breast:Why should Horror's voice astound thee?Death can bid the ...
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