No poet wept him; but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear: And tears by bards or heroes shed I therefore purpose not, or dream, To give the melancholy theme But misery still delights to trace When, snatch'd from all effectual aid, But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he. W. Cowper CCVI TOMORROW In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining, Than a snug elbow-chair will afford for reclining, 5 With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow, 10 And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn Look forward with hope for Tomorrow. With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too, As the sunshine or rain may prevail; And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too, With a barn for the use of the flail: A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game, And a purse when a friend wants to borrow; 15 I'll envy no Nabob his riches or fame, Or what honours may wait him Tomorrow. From the bleak northern blast may my cot be com pletely Secured by a neighboring hill; And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly 5 And while peace and plenty I find at my board, 10 With my friends may I share what Today may afford, And when I at last must throw off this frail cov'ring Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again: But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey, And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow; 15 As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare Today, May become Everlasting Tomorrow. J. Collins CCVII Life! I know not what thou art, 5 Life! we've been long together 10 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; -Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning. A. L. Barbauld Book Fourth CCVIII TO THE MUSES Whether on Ida's shady brow, Or in the chambers of the East, Where the melodious winds have birth; Whether on crystal rocks ye rove CCIX ODE ON THE POETS Bards of Passion and of Mirth -Yes, and those of heaven commune Browsed by none but Dian's fawns; Thus ye live on high, and then And the souls ye left behind you What doth strengthen and what maim:— Bards of Passion and of Mirth J. Keats CCX ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold 5 Oft of one wide expanse had I been told Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: -Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 10 When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes J Keats CCXI LOVE All thoughts, all passions, all delights, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I The moonshine stealing o'er the scene |