The wild winds weep  And the night is a-cold;Come hither, Sleep,  And my griefs infold:But lo! the morning peeps  Over the eastern steeps,And the rustling birds of dawnThe earth do scorn.--From "Mad Song" by William Blak...

The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I killDeceit, that loves the night and fears the day;All men who do or even imagine illFly me, and from the glory of my rayGood minds and open actions take new might,Until diminished by the reign of Night.--From...

O Nature! I do not aspireTo be the highest in thy choir, -To be a meteor in thy sky,Or comet that may range on high;Only a zephyr that may blowAmong the reeds by the river low;Give me thy most privy placeWhere to run my airy race.-"Nature" by H.D. Th...

Viewless essence, thin and bare,Well nigh melted into air,Still with fondness hovering nearThe earthly form thou once didst wear,--From "Death Chant" by Sir Walter ScottWhat is more thin, bare, and well nigh melted into air than time? Although time m...

When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,Then nightly sings the staring owl, To-whit! To-who!—...

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song Was swallowed up in leaves that blew away; And to the forest edge you came one day (This was my dream) and looked and pondered long, But did not enter, though the wish was strong: You shook your pensive head as...

The bells of waiting Advent ring,The Tortoise stove is lit againAnd lamp-oil light across the nightHas caught the streaks of winter rainIn many a stained-glass window sheenFrom Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.-- from "Christmas" by Robert FrostMy Chris...

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea,--from Crossing the Bar, by Tennyson.I've always liked that poem and used it in a talk many years ago. It's the only thing I r...

Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;But let it whistle as it will,We'll keep our Christmas merry still.Each age has deem'd the new-born yearThe fittest time for festal cheer:Even, heathen yet, the savage DaneAt Iol more deep the mead did drain;High...

The skies they were ashen and sober;   The leaves they were crisped and sere—  The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October  Of my most immemorial year; It was hard by the...