Let us lift up the curtain, and observe
What passes in that chamber. Now a sigh,
And now a groan is heard. Then all is still.
Twenty are sitting as in judgement there;

I Faint, I Perish With My Love!

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I faint, I perish with my love! I grow
Frail as a cloud whose [splendours] pale
Under the evening's ever-changing glow:
I die like mist upon the gale,
And like a wave under the calm I fail

In An Album

© James Russell Lowell

The misspelt scrawl, upon the wall

By some Pompeian idler traced,

In a City Garden

© Trumbull Stickney

Yet was this willow here.
It hung as now its olive skeins aloft
Into the sky, then blue and clear,-
And yonder pair of poplar trees

III: To Sir Robert Wroth

© Benjamin Jonson

How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth,

Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!

Idyll V. The Battle of the Bards

© Theocritus

COMETAS.
Goats, from a shepherd who stands here, from Lacon, keep away:
Sibyrtas owns him; and he stole my goatskin yesterday.

In Search Of Cinderella

From dusk to dawn,
From town to town,
Without a single clue,
I seek the tender, slender foot

Idyll IV. The Herdsmen

© Theocritus

BATTUS.
Look at that heifer! sure there's naught, save bare bones, left of her.
Pray, does she browse on dewdrops, as doth the grasshopper?

That hides all fair things lost, and things unborn,
Where one has fled from me, that wore thy grace,
And that grave tenderness of thine awhile;
Nay, still in dreams I see her, but her face
Is pale, is wasted with a touch of scorn,
And only on thy lips I find her smile.