#EnglishWriters #Romantic
There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath’d with mine alone… That Destiny’s relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these ey…
These locks, which fondly thus ent… In firmer chains our hearts confin… Than all th’ unmeaning protestatio… Which swell with nonsense love ora… Our love is fix’d, I think we’ve…
CLXXVIII. There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society where none intrud… By the deep Sea, and music in its…
The Serfs are glad through Lara’s… And slavery half forgets her feuda… He, their unhoped, but unforgotten… The long self-exiled chieftain is… There be bright faces in the busy…
Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes—…
Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,
‘Away, away, your fleeting arts May now betray some simpler hearts… And you will smile at their believ… And they shall weep at your deceiv… ANSWER TO THE FOREGO…
‘Tis time the heart should be unmo… Since others it hath ceased to mov… Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf;
To be the father of the fatherless… To stretch the hand from the thron… His offspring, who expired in othe… To make thy sire’s sway by a kingd… This is to be a monarch, and repre…
This day, of all our days, has don… The worst for me and you:- 'Tis just six years since we were… And five since we were two.
For Oxford and for Waldegrave You give much more than me you gav… Which is not fairly to behave, My Murray. Because if a live dog, 'tis said,
Oh, Wellington! (or 'Villainton’—… Sounds the heroic syllables both w… France could not even conquer your… But punn’d it down to this facetio… Beating or beaten she will laugh t…
Think’st thou I saw thy beauteous… Suffus’d in tears, implore to stay… And heard unmov’d thy plenteous si… Which said far more than words can… Though keen the grief thy tears ex…
Stranger! behold, interr’d togethe… The souls of learning and of leath… Poor Joe is gone, but left his al… You’ll find his relics in a stall. His works were neat, and often fou…
Adieu, ye joys of La Valette! Adieu, sirocco, sun, and sweat! Adieu, thou palace rarely enter’d! Adieu, ye mansions where I’ve ven… Adieu, ye cursed streets of stairs…