The Moral: When stamps you're adept on
Of risks you are reckless, and yet
Beware! If your face is once stepped on,
That's the last stamp you're likely to get!

M'Fingal - Canto I

© John Trumbull

When Yankies, skill'd in martial rule,

First put the British troops to school;

Mr Cogito And The Imagination

© Zbigniew Herbert

he would rarely soar
on the wings of a metaphor
and then he fell like Icarus
into the embrace of the Great Mother

Boyars, The People, Inspectors, Officers, Attendants, Guests,
a Boy in attendance on Prince Shuisky, a Catholic Priest, a
Polish Noble, a Poet, an Idiot, a Beggar, Gentlemen, Peasants,
Guards, Russian, Polish, and German Soldiers, a Russian
Prisoner of War, Boys, an old Woman, Ladies, Serving-women.

Meditation

© Mikhail Lermontov

With sadness I survey our present generation!

Their future seems so empty, dark, and cold,

The Young Man's Song

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

At last the curse has run its date!
The heavens grow clear above,
And on the purple plains of Hate,
We'll build the throne of Love!

The Wishing Gate Destroyed

© William Wordsworth

HOPE rules a land forever green:
All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen
Are confident and gay;
Clouds at her bidding disappear;
Points she to aught?--the bliss draws near,
And Fancy smooths the way.

Amusement

© Henry James Pye

A POETICAL ESSAY.

Faringdon Hill. Book I

© Henry James Pye

What various objects scatter'd round us lie,
And charm on every side the curious eye!
Amidst such ample stores, how shall the Muse
Know where to turn her sight, and which to choose?

The Virgin Mother

My little love, my darling,
You were a doorway to me;
You let me out of the confines
Into this strange countrie,
Where people are crowded like thistles,
Yet are shapely and comely to see.

One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part I

Herein the dearness of her is;
The thirty perfect days of June
Made one, in maiden loveliness
Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,
With love not more in tune.

The Jacquerie A Fragment

Chapter I.Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright
Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night,
And flamed, one brilliant instant, on the world,
Then back into the historic moat was hurled

Street Cries

Oft seems the Time a market-town
Where many merchant-spirits meet
Who up and down and up and down
Cry out along the street

Corn

I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence
Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,
Contests with stolid vehemence
The march of culture, setting limb and thorn
As pikes against the army of the corn.

Clover

Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats.Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields,
My large unjealous Loves, many yet one --
A grave good-morrow to your Graces, all,
Fair tilth and fruitful seasons!