The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.
Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
...
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When youth was lord of my unchallenged fate,
And time seemed but the vassal of my will,
I entertainëd certain guests of state—
The great of older days, who, faithful still,
Have kept with me the pact my youth had made.
And I remember how one galleon rare...
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This is a breath of summer wind
That comes—we know not how—that goes
As softly,—leaving us behind,
Pleased with a smell of vine and rose.
Poet, shall this be all thy word?
Blow on us with a bolder breeze,
Until we rise, as having heard...
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A poet writ a song of May
That checked his breath awhile;
He kept it for a summer day,
Then spake with half a smile:
“Oh, little song of purity,
Of mystic to-and-fro,
You are so much a part of me
I dare not let you go.”
...
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Holy of England! since my light is short
And faint, O rather by the sun anew
Of timeless passion set my dial true,
That with thy saints and thee I may consort,
And, wafted in the cool, enshadowed port
Of poets, seem a little sail long due,
And be...
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My little one begins his feet to try,
A tottering, feeble, inconsistent way;
Pleased with the effort, he forgets his play,
And leaves his infant baubles where they lie.
Laughing and proud his mother flutters nigh,
Turning to go, yet joy-compelled to stay,...
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“oh dear! is Summer over?”
I heard a rosebud moan,
When first her eyes she opened,
And found she was alone.
“Oh, why did Summer leave me,
Little me, belated?
Where are the other roses?
I think they might have waited.”
...
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Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks
TO most people who have leisure
Raising poultry gives great pleasure;
First, because the eggs they lay us
For the care we take repay us;
Secondly, that now and then
We can dine on roasted hen;
Thirdly,...
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How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love’s beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there ’s no untying!
Yet remember, midst your wooing,
Love has bliss, but love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears...
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From “Don Juan,” Canto I.
’T IS sweet to hear,
At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep,
The song and oar of Adria’s gondolier,
By distance mellowed, o’er the waters sweep;
’T is sweet to see the evening star appear;
’T is...
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