We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted. The poet's darling. Thou unassuming commonplace Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose type of things through all degrees. Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven And memory of Earth's bitter leaven To the Daisy. Ibid. To the same Flower. Ibid. Thoughts suggested on the Banks of the Nith. Long after it was heard no more. Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice; A famous man is Robin Hood, Because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, Ibid. Address to Kilchurn Castle. That they should take who have the power, Rob Roy's Grave. Ibid. The Eagle, he was lord above, And Rob was lord below. Rob Roy's Grave. A brotherhood of venerable trees. Sonnet composed at Castle. Let beeves and home-bred kine partake Every gift of noble origin Yarrow Unvisited. Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath. A remnant of uneasy light. These Times strike Monied Worldlings. Oh for a single hour of that Dundee The Matron of Jedborough. Who on that day the word of onset gave !1 Sonnet, in the Pass of Killicranky. O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice? She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight, To be a moment's ornament; To the Cuckoo. She was a Phantom of Delight. A creature not too bright or good Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. Ibid. 1 It was on this occasion [the failure in energy of Lord Mar at the battle of Sheriffmuir] that Gordon of Glenbucket made the celebrated exclamation, "Oh for an hour of Dundee!". MAHON: History of England, vol. i. p. 184. Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo, The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe! BYRON: Childe Harold, canto iv. stanza 12. The reason firm, the temperate will, To warn, to comfort, and command. She was a Phantom of Delight. That inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude. I wandered lonely. To be a Prodigal's favourite, then, worse truth, Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!1 A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove. The Small Celandine. Ode to Duty. Ibid. Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live! Ibid. The light that never was, on sea or land; The consecration, and the Poet's dream. Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm. Stanza 4. Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made. To a Young Lady. Dear Child of Nature. But an old age serene and bright, Where the statue stood Of Newton, with his prism and silent face, Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone. 1 See Milton, page 239. Ibid. The Prelude. Book iii. One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead. Who, doomed to go in company with Pain - Book xi. Ibid. Ibid. Character of the Happy Warrior. Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Ibid. But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Is happy as a lover. Ibid. And through the heat of conflict keeps the law Ibid. Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Like, but oh how different! Ibid. Yes, it was the Mountain Echo. The world is too much with us; late and soon, Miscellaneous Sonnets. Part i. xxxiii. Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 1 See Milton, page 235. Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, Miscellaneous Sonnets. Part i. xxxiii. Maidens withering on the stalk.1 Personal Talk. Stanza 1. Sweetest melodies Are those that are by distance made more sweet.2 Stanza 2. Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, The gentle Lady married to the Moor, And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb. Stanza 3. Ibid. Stanza 4. Lines on the expected Dissolution of Mr. Fox. The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 2. The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. Ibid. Where is it now, the glory and the dream? Stanza 5. Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The soul that rises with us, our life's star, Not in entire forgetfulness, But trailing clouds of glory, do we come 1 See Shakespeare, page 57. Stanza 5. 2 See Collins, page 390. |