#EnglishWriters
THE rogue, she smiled, then swept… Her raven locks behind her streami… My very pulse forgot to play, And I was left in wonder dreaming… The Pleiads lost their charms tha…
SHE snapt her fingers, on her hee… Her sweet boot-heel, she turned an… What did I feel?—What could I fe… At what of paradise had reft me? I swooning lay; my soul away
I LIKE the darling critics—like? O, how upon their work I linger, When they their weapons use to str… Not me, but some less happy singer… The treasure of their venom-bags
A SONG in devotion I sing to my… Ah! be startled not to discover I… To fold in my arms and possess wha… And many a time is the theme of my… My manhood’s dissolved at the sigh…
DEAR critics, pray, what have I… That thus you frown so? tell me tr… ‘You’ve for your neck a halter spu… In blaming of our race unduly!’ Don’t hang me, pray!—Just praise…
How long shall injustice prevail? How long shall the weak rue the st… The children of Poland bewail The yoke of the Russian?—How long… Lo! one generation goes by,
AWAY to the well lilted Annie; Away with her skiel to the well; Away to the well whistled Johnnie… The pride and delight of the dell. Sweet, sweet is the well; but ah,…
‘SAY, whither goes my buxom maid All with the coal-black e’e?’ ‘Before I answer that,’ she said, ‘Give ear, and answer me. ’Pray, hast thou e’er thy counsel…
LAST night at the fair I met lig… And Nanny from Earsdon and bother… And yellow-hair’d Bessy and hazel… But Rosy for sweetness did bear o… Chorus.—Not Polly, nor Dolly, no…
THE DITTY. O, BECKY SHARP, dear Becky S… So very clever and so witty; I’m half inclined your praise to h… In one, at least, well-worded ditt…
LET England beware, ere for war… She incur not the mark of the beas… That she march not her power the… Of the blood-imbued wolf of the E… It might be her gain that State t…
YOU turn up your nose at me? I suppose, I’m noisome and base? Before on my head you cruelly trea… Give ear to my case. A lily-bell rare, my charms were l…
FROM the pipe-end off it glides, Many hued appearing; What, if cynic harsh derides, Sets the boys a-staring. In their eyes gleam its dyes,
THE memories of moments flown, Into my spirit’s glass assemble; And as they enter, one by one, My heart-strings into music trembl… Even as the harp, the breezelet sw…
I MIGHT have wish’s it otherwis… But yet, poor heart, tho’ they wer… Those thunder-clouds above her eye… They very much became the jewel! Hope fled, but Truth remains, and…