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  1. 4 giorni fa · To A Snowdrop. Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they. But hardier far, once more I see thee bend. Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, Storms, sallying from the mountain -tops, waylay. The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend.

  2. 5 giorni fa · The Longest Day. Let us quit the leafy arbor, And the torrent murmuring by; For the sun is in his harbor, Weary of the open sky. Evening now unbinds the fetters. Fashioned by the glowing light; All that breathe are thankful debtors. To the harbinger of night.

  3. 4 giorni fa · To A Butterfly. I know not if you sleep or feed. And calls you forth again! Here lodge as in a sanctuary! Sit near us on the bough! As twenty days are now. I've watched you now a full half hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower; And, little Butterfly! indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless!-not.

  4. 2 giorni fa · I wandered lonely as a cloud. A. That floats on high o'er vales and hills. B. When all at once I saw a crowd. A. A host of golden daffodils. B. Beside the lake beneath the trees.

  5. 2 giorni fa · Some little pleasure -skiff, that doth on Thames's waters float. The Showman chooses well his place, 'tis Leicester's busy Square; And is as happy in his night, for the heavens are blue and fair; Calm, though impatient, is the crowd; each stands ready with the fee, And envies him that's looking;--what an insight must it be!

  6. 2 giorni fa · To Sleep. FOND words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep! And thou hast had thy store of tenderest names; The very sweetest, Fancy culls or frames, When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep! Dear Bosom- child we call thee, that dost steep. In rich reward all suffering; Balm that tames.

  7. 3 giorni fa · The eye reposes on a secret bridge. Half grey, half shagged with ivy to its ridge; There, bending o'er the stream, the listless swain. Lingers behind his disappearing wain. --Did Sabine grace adorn my living line, Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine! Never shall ruthless minister of death.

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