A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

(avery) #1

JapPJ! it ~nglanb.
HAPPY ia England! I could be eoutent
To aee n.o other verdure than ita own ;
To feel no other bret:zes tbao are blt)wn
Through ita tall woods with high romances blent;
Yet do I eometime£1 feel a languishmcnt
For akiea Itali~t and au inward groan
To sit upon an AJ p as on a throne,
.Anu half forget what world or worldling meant.
HAppy ia England, ,sweet her artless daughters ;
Enough thtdr simple lovelilleBB for me,
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging;
Yet do I often wn.rmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,
Alld lloat wiLh them about the euminer waters.
KEATS.


lt!Z ~atift.t Jallb-6nb-Jigkf.
Aot&u, ailieu I my native shore
Fades o'er the watel'll blue ;
The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And ebrieks 1the wild aeamew.
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea,
We follow in hie dight:
Farewell awhil·e to him and thee,
My l.l.Ativo Lund-Good-Night I
A few short hOI!lJ'B, and He will rise
To give the nllorrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
Bot not my n.totber Earth.
IH.Iterted ia my own good hall,
Ita hearth ie desolate ;
Wild weeds are gathering on tho wllll;
My dog howL3 at the gate.
For ple&~~urea past I do not grieve,
Nor perils ga•thering near;
My greatest gri.ef ia, that I leave
No thing thd elaima a ten.r.
ADd now I'm in the world &.lone,
Upon the wicle, wide ee& :
But why should! I for others groan,
When none 11rill aigh for me 1 BYRoN.
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