What F What find I here? Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, Seem they in motion? here are severed lips, Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs The painter plays the spider, and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes! How could he see to do them? Having made one, Methinks it sho

They form a picture that appears of Eld— The beauteous mother and the husband bold, And smiling infant like a rose-bud held Upon the parent-stem, but half unrolled, Yet blushing brightly in each crimson fold. The household steed, in quiet sympathy, Looks silent on and seems to share their glee. The shaggy dog that wakes the forest old With joyous echoes as he bounds along, Starting the heron from his reedy lair— These, while the morning sunbeams slant along Through that old p

Turn now thy eye, and look on poverty! They have no bread to eat, no tongue to ask; No limbs to walk, no home, no house, no friend. The long & lamentable groan, announce The want that gnaws within; On them rain, hail, & tempest, rudely beat, And all the winds of heaven, in jocular mood Sport with their withered rags, that tossed about, And grievously burlesque the human form.

Is it a pleasant thing to hear The music of water? or to view The sky when no dark clouds appear To shade its fields of blue? If we call my native land Home of the beautiful & grand; For its glass waves that roll so free Gleam bright as stars reflected there And murmur as calm & clear As the soft smile of Heaven that bears A sweet serenity.

And cruelty has doomed the life Of the young victim to the knife. ’Tis poverty’s resistless call That doomed the innocent to fall; Pity has claims, yet stronger still The claims that spring from human ills; And his is the domestic need, That bids a father’s bosom bleed. And see, the dreadful man is there His purchase to his home to bear; Even now he counts the long-earned sum, While the poor housewife, downcast, dumb, Stands with her half averted eyes, As shrinking from the s