#1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics #EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
WHAT can he ail? I hear them ask And what can make his cheek so pal… Ah, that to answer were a task For which no effort could avail, To say I love were but to say
O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht… Is thy latest prospect gone? Must my task be thus relinquisht Ere my noble end is won? Must I die, and be remember’d
LITTLE ANNA young and fair, How with heart a-dancing, I descry her image rare, O’er the footway glancing. Ah, those locks of dusky hue,
AH, deem not when thy minstrel tu… His harp to hours and glories vani… His star of stars, his moon of moo… Can ever from his heart be banish’… Each tune he wakes, each note that…
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…
THE baleful era of King Gold has… And men disgusted with the part th… From out the temple of their heart… The idols that debased the souls t… Man yet hath passions and the caus…
‘I HATE outlandish things, and o… I’ve little liking for the sonnet; ’Tis for a lazy Muse, and one Who hath a bumler in her bonnet. ‘Tis a humdrum song, and tho’ not…
ELEVEN long winters departed Since you and he sailed o’er the m… Dear, dear—I’ve been thrice broke… And thrice—but, ah, let me refrain… There was not a lassie in Plessy,
THE stars are twinkling in the sk… As to the pit I go; I think not of the sheen on high, But of the gloom below. Not rest nor peace, but toil and s…
(The chorus is old.) AWAY to the Fair, my lad did rep… Ere day had the welkin adorned; Now day’s glidden by and night’s i… And he, he has never returned:
FLY not away, wee birdie, pray! No weasels we, no evil-bringers, Would make thee bear the pangs tha… Too oft the hearts of sweetest sin… Long may thy nest with eggs be ble…
JUST let the Owl of Evil howl! To mourners of each rank and stati… I cry, Come troll the Golden Bow… And quaff with me one deep potatio… Each sparkling droplet to the soul
IN the coal-pit, or the factory, I toil by night or day, And still to the music of labour I lilt my heart-felt lay; I lilt my heart-felt lay
UNKNIT that brow; the day too s… Departs when starry nights are nea… They’re clouded now, nor will the… Once come and try to make them cle… Be not like her, a peevish girl;—
A GOLDEN sun went down to-night… When lo! a vision from the olden Time, flashed on my inner sight, With smiles more tender and as gol… My blood ran cold; for I did know