“When by my solitary hearth I sit,When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit,And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.”

“Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart:Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,And fright him as the morning frightens night!”

“Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!The flower will bloom another year.Weep no more! oh, weep no more!Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.Dry your eyes! oh, dry your eyes!For I was taught in ParadiseTo ease my breast of melodies,— Shed no tear.Overhead! look overhead!‘Mong the blossoms white and red—Look up, look up! I flutter nowOn this fresh pomegranate bough.See me! ’tis this silvery billEver cures the good man’s ill.Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!The flower will bloom another year.Adieu, adieu—I fly—adieu!I vanish in the heaven’s blue,— Adieu, adieu!- Fairy Song”

“When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain, Before high piled books, in charact’ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love!—then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be”

“I scarcely remember counting upon happiness—I look not for it if it be not in the present hour—nothing startles me beyond the moment. The setting sun will always set me to rights, or if a sparrow come before my Window I take part in its existence and pick about the gravel.”

“When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain".”

“And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed,Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.”