Ode on Melancholy. It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns. On the Sea. The sweet converse of an innocent mind. The flower will bloom another year.
Young buds sleep in the root's white core.
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast. The Day is gone. Mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep. On seeing the Elgin Marbles.