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an ancient chestnut's blossoms threw / Their heavy odour over two: …
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First bring me Raffael, who alone hath seen / In all her purity heaven’s virgin queen, …
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Mild is the parting year, and sweet / The odour of the falling spray; …
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Children are what the mothers are. / No fondest father’s fondest care …
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Stand close around, ye Stygian set, / With Dirce in one boat convey'd! …
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I Strove with none, for none was worth my strife; / Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; …
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I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife. / Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art: …
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From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass / Like little ripples down a sunny river; …
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'do you remember me? or are you proud?' / Lightly advancing thro' her star-trimm'd crowd, …
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The leaves are falling; so am I; / The few late flowers have moisture in the eye; …
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The Dreamy rhymer’s measured snore / Falls heavy on our ears no more; …
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Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; / My fingers ache, my lips are dry: …
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In Clementina's artless mien / Lucilla asks me what I see, …
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Tell me not what too well I know / About the bard of Sirmio. …
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Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak / Four not exempt from pride some future day. …
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Remain, ah not in youth alone! / —Tho' youth, where you are, long will stay— …
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Why, why repine, my pensive friend, / At pleasures slipp'd away? …
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There is delight in singing, though none hear / Beside the singer; and there is delight …
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Ah, what avails the sceptred race! / Ah, what the form divine! …
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There is a mountain and a wood between us, / Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us …
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When hath wind or rain / Borne hard upon weak plant that wanted me, …
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I LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone, / I feel I am alone. …
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THE Wisest of the wise / Listen to pretty lies, …
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From “Gebir,” Book I. / I AM not daunted, no; I will engage. …
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Where art thou gone, light-ankled Youth? / With wing at either shoulder, …
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Twenty years hence my eyes may grow, / If not quite dim, yet rather so; …
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Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, / Alcestis rises from the shades; …
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How many verses have I thrown / Into the fire because the one …
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Years, many parti-colour'd years, / Some have crept on, and some have flown …