The Days Of Peace And Slumberous Calm

O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell, Let It Not Be Among The Jumbled Heap Of Murky Buildings: Climb With Me The Steep,-- Nature's Observatory--whence The Dell, In Flowery Slopes, Its River's Crystal Swell, May Seem A Span; Let Me Thy Vigils Keep 'mongst Boughs Pavilion'd, Where The Deer's Swift Leap Startles The Wild Bee From The Foxglove Bell.

The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone!

She Press'd His Hand In Slumber; So Once More He Could Not Help But Kiss Her And Adore.

I Almost Wish We Were Butterflies And Liv'd But Three Summer Days - Three Such Days With You I Could Fill With More Delight Than Fifty Common Years Could Ever Contain.

How Does The Poet Speak To Men With Power, But By Being Still More A Man Than They