All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, Are all but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o’er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount … read more
I just came across a poetry called, She is Going by Charles Lamb. Somehow I like this short poetry very much. For their elder Sister’s hair Martha does a wreath prepare Of bridal rose, ornate and gay: To-morrow is the … read more
Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing. O budding time! O love’s blest prime! Two wedded from the portal stept: The bells made … read more
FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON. [“The Mother’s Lament,” says the poet, in a copy of the verses now before me, “was composed partly with a view to Mrs. Fergusson of Craigdarroch, and partly to the worthy patroness of my early unknown … read more