Robert Southey

It is with words as with sunbeams--the more they are condensed, the deeper they burn.

It is with words as with sunbeams--the more they are condensed, the deeper they burn.

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky
Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray,
Each read more

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky
Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray,
Each in the south melting.

The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
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The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
Seeking in vain one blossom where to fix.

And so never ending,
But always descending.

And so never ending,
But always descending.

O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
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O Reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.