Poems with rhymes of recline

And the kùdù and eland unhunted recline
By the skirts of grey forests o'erhung with wild-vine;

That threw the shadow's length'ning line
At solemn distance far below;
And where the gather'd clouds recline

Let me at last recline,
Where Solitude, mild, modest Power,
Leans on her ivy'd shrine.

While I recline
At ease beneath
This immemorial pine,

Like the smooth prebend how might I recline,
And loiter life in mirth and song and wine!

May weep me Dead, may o'er my Tomb recline,
And sighing, wish were he alive and Mine!

Can I endure that she recline
Upon another's arm? Shall they
No longer call that lady "mine"

Ye Angels, that from clouds of gold recline,
But boast no semblance to a race divine:

When arrayed in Thy glories I shine,
Nor grieve any more, by my sins,
The bosom on which I recline.

Blest Savior, I recline;
Thou wilt not leave me to despair,
For Thou art Love divine.

Where Venus did recline
& Beauty close embracing Love
They Joyn to rail at Wine

Where Venus did recline,
And Beauty close embracing Love,
They join'd to Rail at Wine.

Mingling their fragrant leaves, shall there recline,
While CHERUBS hov'ring on th' ethereal gale,
Shall chaunt a requiem o'er the hallow'd shrine.

Who on Olympus dost recline,
Do I not tell the truth aright?
No lady is so fair as mine.

While I my head upon this turf recline,
Officious sun, in vain on me you shine;

Too many sorrows! Sighing I resign
Thy solitary beauties--and no more
Or on thy rocks or in thy woods recline,

Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,
But ah! without the thoughts which then were mine.

Oh, 'twas strange for a pupil of Paul to recline
On voluptuous couch, while Falernian wine

Oft on yon cliff thy folded plumes recline,
And drop those snowy feathers Indians twine,

While round a vacant board the chiefs recline,
Huge goblets are brought forth; they crown the wine;