Oh! there are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair
As star-beams among twilight trees:
Such lovely ministers to meet
Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet.

The Candidate

© Charles Churchill

This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the

Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the

A Salutation

© Louise Imogen Guiney

High-hearted Surrey! I do love your ways,

Venturous, frank, romantic, vehement,

Delia XXXVI

© Samuel Daniel

But love whilst that thou mayst be loved again,

Now whilst thy May hath filled thy lap with flowers,

You Smiled, You Spoke, and I Believed

© Heather Fuller

You smiled, you spoke, and I believed,
By every word and smile deceived.
Another man would hope no more;
Nor hope I what I hoped before:
But let not this last wish be vain;
Deceive, deceive me once again!

The Made to Order Smile

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes,
And her brows are half uplifted in a nicely feigned surprise
As you breathe some pretty sentence, though she hates you all the while,
She is very apt to stun you with a made to order smile.

The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto III

Ye traytors, tyrants, fear his stinging lay!
Ye pow'rs unlov'd, unpity'd in decay!
But know, to you sweet-blossom'd Fame he brings,
Ye heroes, patriots, and paternal kings!

The Common Touch

I would not be too wiseso very wise

That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,

Idyll I. The Death of Daphnis

© Theocritus

GOATHERD.
Shepherd, thy lay is as the noise of streams
Falling and falling aye from yon tall crag.
If for their meed the Muses claim the ewe,
Be thine the stall-fed lamb; or if they choose
The lamb, take thou the scarce less-valued ewe.

Lancelot And Elaine

How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts,
Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.

The Exiles Secret

Why tell each idle guess, each whisper vain?
Enough: the scorched and cindered beams remain.
He came, a silent pilgrim to the West,
Some old-world mystery throbbing in his breast;
Close to the thronging mart he dwelt alone;
He lived; he died. The rest is all unknown.