Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my...
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Since o’er thy footstool here below If night’s blue curtain of the... |
Now summer finds her perfect prime; |
Heaven is open every day; ... |
What! dost thou pray that the outgone tide be rolled back on the strand, |
only to find Forever, blest Only to meet and never part, |
[Written in September, 1789, on the anniversary of the day on which he heard of the death of his early love, Mary Campbell.] THOU lingering star, with lessening ray, |
I Never saw a moor, I never spake with God, |
High thoughts! |
That clime is not like this dull clime of ours; |