Whoe’er she be,
That not impossible She
That shall command my heart and me:

Where’er she lie,
Locked up from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny:

Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps tread...

During His Solitary Abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez

I AM monarch of all I survey,—
  My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
  I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O Solitude! where are the charms
  That sages...

Death warrants are supposed to be

An enginery of equity

A merciful mistake

A pencil in an Idol's Hand

A Devotee has oft consigned

To Crucifix or Block

Poet:

Thou magic lyre, whose fascinating sound

   Seduc'd the savage monsters from their cave,

Drew rocks and trees, and forms uncouth around,

   And bade wild Hebrus hush his list'ning wave;

No more thy undulating warblings flow...

Poet:

Sleep is supposed to be,

By souls of sanity,

The shutting of the eye.


Sleep is the station grand

Down which on either hand

The...

Poet:



 * * *


There was an Old Man who supposed,

That the street door was partially closed;

       But some very large rats,

       Ate his coats and his hats,

While that futile old gentleman dozed....

Poet:

I am monarch of all I survey,

    My right there is none to dispute;

From the center all round to the sea

    I am lord of the fowl and the brute.


O solitude! where are the charms

    That sages have seen in thy...

Poet: