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To ---- V (Botta) |
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English |
In the noble army of Reform
Thou art a pioneer;
And bravely wields thy good right arm,
The broadsword and the spear.
Thou may'st not see the battle's close,
... |
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To ---- VI (Botta) |
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English |
The brilliant west is glowing,
With sunset's farewell ray;
The silver waves are flowing,
On to the distant sea;
The pale bright stars are keeping
... |
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To ---- VII (Botta) |
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English |
Upon the sea of life,
Outspread thy spirit's sails; --
Go in thy genius forth, and breast
Its billows and its gales.
Weigh anchor and depart --
... |
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To ---- VIII (Botta) |
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Thou dost not dwell in this dark world of ours,
Where sorrow, want, and crime, and misery reign;
Where famine stalks; where war's dread tempest lowers;
Where stands the scaffold, and where clanks the... |
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To ---- X (Botta) |
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English |
Like the river's current rapid;
Like the lightning's flash intense;
Was the rushing, fiery torrent
Of thy fervid eloquence.
And the multitude that listened
... |
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To ----, in obscurity |
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English |
In full-orbed splendor now the queen of Night,
Among the stars walks in her pride of place,
And how again we miss that flood of light
That overflowed the azure fields of space.
... |
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To ----, with flowers |
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Go, ye sweet messengers,
To that dim-lighted room,
Where lettered wisdom from the walls
Sheds a delightful gloom;
Where sits in thought profound,... |
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To a Butterfly |
William Wordsworth |
1807 |
Love |
I’ve watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!—not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among... |
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To a Caty-Did |
Philip Freneau |
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English |
in a branch of willow hid
Sings the evening Caty-did:
From the lofty-locust bough
Feeding on a drop of dew,
In her suit of green arrayed
Hear her singing in the shade—
Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did!
While upon a leaf you tread,... |
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To a Cherokee Rose |
William Hamilton Hayne |
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English |
Thy one white leaf is open to the sky,
And o’er thy heart swift lights and shadows pass,—
The wooing winds seem loath to wander by,
Jealous of sunshine and the summer grass.
Thy sylvan loveliness is pure and strong,
For thou art bright and yet not... |
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To a Child |
George Edgar Montgomery |
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English |
I look upon thy happy face—
Dear child with those undarkened eyes
Like glimpses of transparent skies—
And dream of things which have no place
In that small, golden head of thine;
Things that no ten-year-old has yet
Dared in his roguish wit to set... |
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To a Child (Botta) |
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English |
I love to look on that eye of blue,
For tears have not yet worn a channel through;
And the few bright summers since thy birth,
Have left thee a stranger still on earth.
A... |
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To a Child During Sickness |
Leigh Hunt |
1804 |
English |
SLEEP breathes at last from out thee,
My little patient boy;
And balmy rest about thee
Smooths off the day’s annoy.
I sit me down, and think
Of all thy winning ways;
Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink,
That I had... |
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To a Crow |
Robert Burns Wilson |
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English |
Bold, amiable, ebon outlaw, grave and wise!
For many a good green year hast thou withstood—
By dangerous, planted field and haunted wood—
All the devices of thine enemies,
Gleaning thy grudgëd bread with watchful eyes
And self-relying soul. Come ill or... |
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To a Dog’s Memory |
Louise Imogen Guiney |
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English |
The Gusty morns are here,
When all the reeds ride low with level spear;
And on such nights as lured us far of yore,
Down rocky alleys yet, and thro’ the pine,
The Hound-star and the pagan Hunter shine:
But I and thou, ah, field-fellow of mine,
... |
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To A Friend on the Choice Of A Wife |
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'TIS hard (experience long so taught the wise)
Not to provoke the person we advise.
Counsel, tho' ask'd, may very oft offend.
When it insults th' opinion of my friend.
Men frequent wish another's judgment known,
... |
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To a friend, on being asked for some verses |
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English |
I thought the Soul of Song had made
This heart of mine her sepulchre;
For all her golden dreams had fled,
And I could win no note from her.
But when for thee thou bid'... |
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To a Highland Girl |
William Wordsworth |
1790 |
English |
At Inversnaid, upon Loch Lomond
SWEET Highland Girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting years have shed
Their utmost bounty on thy head;
And these gray rocks, this household lawn,
These trees,—a veil just half... |
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To a Honey Bee |
Philip Freneau |
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English |
Thou, born to sip the lake or spring,
Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come, on vagrant wing?
Does Bacchus tempting seem,—
Did he for you this glass prepare?
Will I admit you to a share?
Did storms harass or foes perplex... |
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To a Hurt Child |
Grace Denio Litchfield |
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English |
What, are you hurt, Sweet? So am I;
Cut to the heart;
Though I may neither moan nor cry,
To ease the smart.
Where was it, Love? Just here! So wide
Upon your cheek!
Oh happy pain that needs no pride,
And may dare speak.... |
