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To Miss Catharine Ten Eyck |
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English |
Come and see our habitation,
condescend to be our guest;
Tho' the veins of warring nations
...
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To Miss Edith M. Thomas |
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Your Pegasus, Edith, is hitched to a star,
While mine drags along a Sixth Avenue car;
Yours bears you away to the far empyrean,
Mine carries me down through the quarters plebeian.
... |
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To Miss H-and At Bath. Written extempore in the pump-room, 1742. |
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English |
SOON shall these bounteous springs thy wish bestow,
Soon in each feature sprightly health shall glow;
Thy eyes regain their fire, thy limbs their grace,
And roses join the lilies in thy face.
But say, sweet maid, what waters... |
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To Miss M. V. W |
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English |
Peggy, amidst domestic cares to rhyme
I find no pleasure, and I find no time;
But then, a Poetess, you may suppose,
Can better tell her mind in verse than prose:
True---when serenely all our moments roll,
...
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To Miss Ten Eyck II |
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English |
Dear Kitty, while you rove thro' sylvan bow'rs,
Inhaling fragrance from salubrious flow'rs,
Or view your blushes mant'ling in the stream,
When Luna gilds it with her amber beam;
The brazen voice of war awakes our...
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To Mr. Bleecker |
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English |
Yes, I invok'd the Muses' aid
To help me write, for 'tis their trade;
But only think, ungrateful Muses,
They sent dame Iris with excuses,
They'd other business for to follow,
Beg'd I'd apply to God Apollo...
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To Mr. Bleecker, on his passage to New York |
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Shall Fancy still pursue th' expanding sails,
Calm Neptune's brow, or raise impelling gales?
Or with her Bleecker, ply the lab'ring oar,
When pleasing scenes invite him to the shore,
There with him thro' the fading...
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To Mr. L----- |
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The sun that gilds the western sky
And makes the orient red,
Whose gladsome rays delight the eye
...
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To Mrs. D--- |
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English |
Dear Betsey now Pleasure the woodland has left,
Nor more in the water she laves,
Since winter the trees of their bloom has bereft,
...
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To Mrs. Kean |
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Of those fair characters the bards create,
Round which thy genius added charms has thrown,
Of those sweet natures thou dost personate,
There is not one more lovely than thine own.
... |
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To My Book |
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English |
Farewell! my fragile, flower-filled book!
I fling thee on the stream of Time,
With faltering hand and fearful soul,--
As in the Orient's sunny clime,
The maiden trims her fragrant lamp,
A tiny, faint, but... |
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To My Dear and Loving Husband |
Anne Bradstreet |
1678 |
Love |
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more then whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such... |
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To my friend, on his birthday |
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Oh, Time! deal gently with my friend,
Who gently deals with all;
And on his loved and honored head
Let blessings only fall
In love to God, and love to man,
... |
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To my friend, on his birthday (II) |
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English |
He who has walked among his fellow-men
This life's rough path for threescore years and ten,
Bearing for others, on the weary way,
The heat and burden of the toilsome day;
Sounding... |
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To My Grandmother |
Frederick Locker-Lampson |
1841 |
English |
Suggested by a Picture by Mr. Romney
THIS relative of mine,
Was she seventy-and-nine
When she died?
By the canvas may be seen
How she looked at seventeen,
As a bride.
Beneath a summer tree,
Her maiden reverie
Has a... |
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To my Infant Son |
Thomas Hood |
1819 |
English |
THOU happy, happy elf!
(But stop, first let me kiss away that tear,)
Thou tiny image of myself!
(My love, he ’s poking peas into his ear,)
Thou merry, laughing sprite,
With spirits, feather light,
Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;... |
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To My Lady |
George Henry Boker |
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English |
I
i ’ll call thy frown a headsman, passing grim,
Walking before some wretch foredoomed to death,
Who counts the pantings of his own hard breath,
Wondering how heart can beat, or stead-fast limb
Bear its sad burden to life’s awful brim.
I ’ll call... |
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To My Nose |
Alfred Henry Forrester |
1824 |
English |
Knows he that never took a pinch,
Nosey, the pleasure thence which flows?
Knows he the titillating joys
Which my nose knows?
O nose, I am as proud of thee
As any mountain of its snows;
I gaze on thee, and feel that pride
A... |
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To my quick ear the Leaves — conferred — |
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English |
To my quick ear the Leaves — conferred —
The Bushes — they were Bells —
I could not find a Privacy
From Nature's sentinels —
In Cave if I presumed to hide
The Walls — begun to tell —
Creation seemed... |
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To my small Hearth His fire came — |
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English |
To my small Hearth His fire came —
And all my House aglow
Did fan and rock, with sudden light —
'Twas Sunrise — 'twas the Sky —
Impanelled from no Summer brief —
With limit of Decay —
'Twas Noon —... |
