Month: August 2014

PICTURE and book remain,An acre of green grassFor air and exercise,Now strength of body goes;Midnight, an old houseWhere nothing stirs but a mouse.My temptation is quiet.Here at life’s endNeither loose

HAIL to thee, blithe spirit!           Bird thou never wert—         That from heaven or near it           Pourest thy full heart   In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.          5  

Beside the ungathered rice he lay,  His sickle in his hand;His breast was bare, his matted hair  Was buried in the sand.Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,  He

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,Lead thou me on!The night is dark, and I am far from home,–Lead thou me on!Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to

Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,    And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;    Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

  IF I should die, think only this of me;     That there’s some corner of a foreign field   That is for ever England. There shall be     In that

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,          The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way,          And leaves the world to darkness and

WHEN I consider how my light is spent     E’re half my days, in this dark world and wide,     And that one Talent which is death to hide,     Lodg’d