'Mid sterner losses let us own this gain—
An infant this will evermore remain:
Those other, should they reach life's longer date,
In them the coming will obliterate
The past; and we shall what they were forget,
Our eyes upon their later semblance set;
But this remaineth an eternal child.
Might sorrow for a little be beguiled,
Even with this thought a soothing fancy brings!
Her image has escaped the flux of things,
And that same infant beauty which she wore
Is fixed upon her now for evermore—
The everlasting garment fresh and new

Away with Death—away
With all her sluggish sleeps and chilling damps,
Impervious to the day,
Where nature sinks into inanity!
How can the soul desire
Such hateful nothingness to crave,
And yield with joy the vital fire
To moulder in the grave?
Yet mortal life is sad,
Eternal storms molest its sullen sky;
And sorrows ever rife
Drain the sacred fountain dry—
Away with mortal life!
But, hail the calm reality,
The seraph Immortality!
Hail the heavenly bowers of peace,
Where all the storms of passion cease.

Why should I blush to own I love?
'Tis love that rules the realms above.
Why should I blush to say to all,
That virtue holds my heart in thrall?

Why should I seek the thickest shade,
Lest Love's dear secret be betray'd?
Why the stern brow deceitful move,
When I am languishing with love?

Is it weakness thus to dwell
On passion that I dare not tell?
Such weakness I would ever prove;
'Tis painful, though 'tis sweet to love.

There is a star in yonder sky,
Above all stars it seems to shine,
'Tis long since first it fixed my eye,
And I have learned to call it mine.

It rose out of my own blue sea,
Then passed above those mountains green,
Moving all placidly,
As if it loved to watch the scene.

Far up the heavens it floated slow,
Gleaming across yon solemn tower,
As if it loved the scene below;—
A willing lingerer hour by hour.

It seemed to take its place each night,
As sentinel to guard my rest,
An eye of love and gentle light,

Imprison me you Traytors? must I be
Your fetter'd slave, while you're at liberty
T'usurp my Scepter, and to make my power
Gnaw its own bowels, and it self devour?
You glorious villains! Treasons that have been
Done in all ages, are done ore agen;
Expert proficients, that have far out-done
Your Tutors Presidents, and have out-run
The practice of all times, whose acts will be
Thought Legendary by Posterity
Was't not enough you made me bear the wrong
Of a rebellious sword, and viprous tongue,
To lose my State, my Children, Crown and Wife;

The Son of God in mighty love,
Came down to Bethlehem for me;
Forsook his throne of light above,
An infant upon earth to be.

In love, the Father's sinless child
Sojourned at Nazareth for me;
With sinners dwelt the undefiled,
The Holy One in Galilee.

Jesus, whom angel-hosts adore,
Became a man of griefs for me;
In love, though rich, becoming poor,
That I though him enriched might be.

Though Lord of all, above, below,
He went to Olivet for me;
There drank my cup of wrath and woe,
When bleeding in Gethsemane.

I fade, I faint, I famish, love!
I thirst, I starve—
Gewhillikins!
And all for my sweet saucy dear—
Her beef, her kisses, pies, & beer
My Stellakins!

What is poetry?
A thought of beauty—truth,
An emotion rife with ruth—
With love!
All rhythmically expressed,
Carefully groomed—exquisitely dressed.

Spring, thou wilful, changeful maid,
Venturesome, yet half afraid
King Winter to defy,
Come, with all thy airs and graces,
Perfumes sweet and flower-laces;
When he thy rare beauty faces,
He, of love, will die.

fortune hathe taken away my love
my lyves joy and my soules heaven above
fortune hathe taken thee away my princes
my worldes joy and my true fantasies misteris

fortune hathe taken thee away from mee
fortune hathe taken all by takinge thee
deade to all joyes I only lyve to woe
So ys fortune becomme my fantasies foe

In vayne my Eyes, in vayne yee waste your teares
In vayne my sightes, the smoke of my dispayres
In vayne youe searche the Earthe and heaven above
In vayne youe searche for fortune keepes my love