Sees not my friend, what a deep snow

Servant of God! well done

She had left all on earth for him
She shall be sportive as the fawn
She sighs-like winds at eve
Shepherds all, and maidens fair
Shepherds, rise and shake off sleep
Short is our span; then why engage
Shout for the mighty men
Sing his praises that doth keep
Sleep, Ambition! Rage, expire!
Sleep!-we give thee to the wave
Sleep, little baby, sleep

Smiles on past Misfortune's brow
So much a stranger my severer Muse
So restless Cromwell could not cease

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Summer's last lingering rose is blown

Sun-girt City! thou hast been

Supreme Divinity! who yet

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Sure thou didst flourish once

Sweet are the harmonies of Spring

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Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire

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Sweet Echo, sleeps thy vocal shell

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Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that livest unseen

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Swiftly walk over the western wave

Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit

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With horns and with hounds, I waken the day

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With lorn delight the scene I view'd

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies
With joy, with joy now, sacred Thebes, resound
Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep.

Y

Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true
Yes, I remember well.

Yestreen the mountain's rugged brow
Yet ere I go

Yet, even whene'er the least appeared
You see this gentle stream that glides
You who are earth, and cannot rise

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