But thou to please were nurtured so completely
That I can never tell what mood is best,
I shall as soon pronounce which Grace more neatly
Trips it before Apollo than the rest.
O Solitude! If I Must with thee Dwell
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,
Natures observatorywhence the dell,
In flowery slopes, its rivers crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
Mongst boughs paviliond, where the deers swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
But though Ill gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refined,
Is my souls pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
To My Brothers
And their faint cracklings oer our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire oer fraternal souls,
And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fixd, as in poetic sleep,
Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
This is your birth-day, Tom, and I rejoice
That thus it passes smoothly, quietly:
Many such eves of gently whispering noise
May we together pass, and calmly try
What are this worlds true joys,ere the great Voice
From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly.
Keen Fitful, Gusts are Whispering here and there
Among the bushes, half leafless and dry;
The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare;
Yet feel I little of the cold bleak air,
Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from homes pleasant lair:
For I am brimful of the friendliness
That in a little cottage I have found;
Of fair-haired Miltons eloquent distress,
And all his love for gentle Lycid drownd,
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
And faithful Petrarch gloriously crownd.
TO One Who Has Been Long In City Pent
Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven,to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Who is more happy, when, with hearts content,
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
And gentle tale of love and languishment?
Returning home at evening, with an ear
Catching the notes of Philomel,an eye
Watching the sailing cloudlets bright career,
He mourns that day so soon has glided by,
Een like the passage of an angels tear
That falls through the clear ether silently.
On First Looking Into Chapmans Homer
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told,
That deep-browd Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacificand all his men
Lookd at each other with a wild surmise
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour
On heapd-up flowers, in regions clear, and far;
Bring me a tablet whiter than a star,
Or hand of hymning angel, when tis seen
The silver strings of heavenly harp atween:
And let there glide by many a pearly car,
Pink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond jar
And half-discoverd wings,
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