There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: N...

And is this -Yarrow? -This the stream Of which my fancy cherished So faithfully, a waking dream, An image that hath perished? O th...

O Friend! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show; ...

I heard a thousand blended notes While in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to th...

Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense, With ill-matched aims the architect who planned (Albeit labouring for a scanty band Of wh...

When I have borne in memory what has tamed Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart When men change swords for ledgers, and desert...

 A simple child, dear brother Jim,   That lightly draws its breath,   And feels its life in every limb,   What should it know of dea...

Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City n...

Toussaint, the most unhappy Man of Men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed...

In youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleased when most uneasy; ...

O blithe newcomer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am...

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye ...

Three years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This child I to myself wil...

Two Voices are there -one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains; each a mighty Voice: In both from age to age thou didst rejoice; They...

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; W...

We walked along, while bright and red Uprose the morning sun; And Matthew stopped, he looked, and said `The will of God be done!'...

 I.   There is a thorn; it looks so old,   In truth you'd find it hard to say,   How it could ever have been young,   It loo...

An Evening Scene, on the same Subject   Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,   Why all this toil and trouble?   Up! up! my frien...

The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet Among the bushes and the trees; T...

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passe...