TO THE MUSES. Whether on Ida's shady brow TO SUMMER. O thou who passest thro' our valleys in THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER. When my mother died I was very young THE LITTLE BOY LOST. Father, father, where are you going? THE LITTLE BOY FOUND. The little boy lost in the lonely fen When the voices of children are heard on the green INFANT JOY. I have no name . A DREAM. Once a dream did weave a shade THE CLOD And the PEBBLE. Love seeketh not itself to please |