#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
A grizzled owl at midnight moped Where thick the ivy glistened; So I, who long have vainly groped For wisdom, leaned and listened. Its perch was firm, its aspect sta…
Bend down and read-the birth, the… Born in the year that Waterloo wa… And died in this, whose days are n… But which, because a year conceive… No noble need will christen or wil…
‘In the depth of Night, on the he… Would you know where I rest or ro… In vain will you search, for I no… And the Universe is my home. ’When you think to descry on the c…
Now on the summit of Love’s topmo… Kiss we and part; no farther can w… And better death than we from high… Should dwindle or decline from str… We have found all, there is no mor…
Go talk to her, sweet flower, To whom I fain would talk Tell her I hour by hour Pine on my own poor stalk. Tell her that I should live
The Old Year knocks at the farmho… October, come with your matron gaz… From the fruit you are storing for… And prop him up on the granary flo… Where the straw lies threshed and…
O beautiful bright world! for ever… And now with Wisdom grafted on th… Why do they slander thee with wail… And lose the wealth of thy long ha… Why do they say that thou art old…
‘Why do I bid the rising gale To waft me from your shore? Why hail I, as the vultures hail, The scent of far-off gore? Why wear I with defiant pride
Welcome, right welcome home, to th… Where, unforgotten, loved Victori… But now with happy pride your Fat… Your Mother weeps. You went as came the swallow, home…
Why, throstle, do you sing In this November haze? Singing for what? for whom? Deem you that it is Spring, Or that your lonely lays
Give me thy heart, I leave thee m… But oh! till next our pulses meet, May my fond spirit round thee shin… Absorb thy soul and guide thy feet… And then no more my passion pine,
I found, and plucked, an autumn-bl… And shut my eyes, and scented all… When lo! as in the month the black… Lambs 'gan to bleat, and merle and… Flower of my life! inestimably dea…
Why do you chide me that, when mor… To slumber’s charm, from sleep I… But from my casement watch the mai… Fainting behind her ineffectual sh… Unto the chime by stately planets…
Hearken not, friend, for the resou… That did the Poet’s verses once a… We are but gleaners in the field o… Whence the main harvest hath been… The sheaves of glory you are fain…
What is the voice I hear On the wind of the Western Sea? Sentinel, listen from out Cape Cl… And say what the voice may be. ‘'Tis a proud, free people calling…
