1850. TO SLEEP. BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. William Wordsworth was born in 1770 and died at Rydal Mount in He was educated in Cambridge, where he graduated in 1791. He traveled on the continent before that, but he settled down for several years in Dorset. A visit from Coleridge determined his career in 1796. He was again abroad in 1798, but returned the following year and went to live at Grasmere in the lake district. He held several government positions and was poet laureate from 1843 to his death. His chief works are, "The Evening Walk," "Descriptive Sketches," "The Excursion," "White Doe of Rylston," "Thanksgiving Ode," "Peter Bell," "Waggoner," "River Duddon," A Series of Sonnets, "The Borderers," "Yarrow Revisited," and "The Prelude." A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one; the sound of rain, and bees I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night and two nights more I lay, Without thee what is all the morning's wealth? Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health! Charles Lamb was born at London in 1775. His most successful writings are the "Tales from Shakespeare" (written in collaboration with his sister), and his "Essays of Elia." Lamb died in 1834. I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days-- I have been laughing, I have been carousing, I loved a love once, fairest among women; I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man; Ghost-like I pace round the haunts of my childhood, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, So might we talk of the old familiar faces How some they have died, and some they have left me, WHEN IN DISGRACE. BY WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd, From sullen earth), sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. BEYOUNG INTRA MUROS. BY MARY C. GILLINGTON. At last 'tis gone, the fever of the day Thank God, there comes an end to everything; The noises of the city drift away Thro' sultry streets and alleys, and the gray Fogs 'round the great cathedral rise and cling. I long and long, but no desire will bring Against my face the keen wind salt with spray. O, far away, green waves, your voices call; Your cool lips kiss the wild and weedy shore; And out upon the sea line sails are brownWhite sea birds, crying, hover-soft shades fallDeep waters dimple 'round the dripping oar, And last rays light the little fishing town. |