Emotions and Feelings

To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall?

Heap on more wood!—the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.

With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best.

But search the land of living men, Where wilt thou find their like again?

But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.

Surprised by joy—impatient as the wind.

Surprised by joy—impatient as the wind.

Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.

Where lies the land to which yon ship must go? Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day, Festively she puts forth in trim array.

Who, doomed to go in company with pain, And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain.

Who, doomed to go in company with pain, And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain.

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be?

The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet’s dream.

Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance desires; My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.

A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company.

Which is the bliss of solitude.

Which is the bliss of solitude.

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

High instincts before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised.