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 our wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may...

Nos jardins orgueilleux dédaignent la culture
De vos chastes attraits naïves fleurs des champs,
          Enfants trouvés de la nature !
Mais vous êtes pour moi des objets ravissante ;
Par vous je me retrouve aux étés du jeune âge,
Quand simple bouton d’or,...

Our bugles sang truce,—for the night-cloud had lowered,
  And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
  The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,...

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...

From “The Pleasures of Hope” 1
  UNFADING Hope! when life’s last embers burn,
When soul to soul, and dust to dust return!
Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour!
O, then thy kingdom comes! Immortal Power!
What though each spark of earth-born rapture...

All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The Sun himself must die,
Before this mortal shall assume
  Its immortality!
I saw a vision in my sleep,
That gave my spirit strength to sweep
  Adown the gulf of time!
I saw the last of human mould...

Star that bringest home the bee,
And sett’st the weary laborer free!
If any star shed peace, ’t is thou,
  That send’st it from above,
Appearing when heaven’s breath and brow
  Are sweet as hers we love.

Come to the luxuriant skies,
...

Ye mariners of England!
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe!
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow;...

I Love contemplating—apart
  From all his homicidal glory—
The traits that soften to our heart
    Napoleon’s glory!

’T was when his banners at Boulogne
  Armed in our island every freeman,
His navy chanced to capture one
    Poor British...

A Chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
  Cries, “Boatman, do not tarry!
And I ’ll give thee a silver pound,
  To row us o’er the ferry.”

“Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
  This dark and stormy water?”
“O, I ’m the chief of Ulva’s isle,...