#EnglishWriters #Romantic
Our life is twofold; Sleep hath i… A boundary between the things misn… Death and existence: Sleep hath i… And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development ha…
Woman! experience might have told… That all must love thee who behold… Surely experience might have taugh… Thy firmest promises are nought: But, placed in all thy charms befo…
When, to their airy hall, my fathe… Shall call my spirit, joyful in th… When, poised upon the gale, my for… Or, dark in mist, descend the moun… Oh! may my shade behold no sculptu…
'OH! banish care’—such ever be The motto of thy revelry! Perchance of mine, when wassail ni… Renew those riotous delights, Wherewith the children of Despair
In moments to delight devoted, ‘My life!’ with tenderest tone you… Dear words! on which my heart had… If youth could neither fade nor di… To death even hours like these mus…
The Serfs are glad through Lara’s wide domain, [2] With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth. And whence they know not, why they need not guess; Though sear’d by toil, and some...
Farewell to the Land where the gl… Arose and o’ershadow’d the earth w… She abandons me now—but the page o… The brightest or blackest, is fill… I have warr’d with a world which v…
With death doom’d to grapple, Beneath this cold slab, he Who lied in the Chapel Now lies in the Abbey.
Time was, ere yet in these degener… Ignoble themes obtain’d mistaken p… When sense and wit with poesy alli… No fabl’d graces, flourish’d side… From the same fount their inspirat…
And thou art dead, as young and fa… As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so ra… Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth receiv’d them in her…
When some proud son of man returns… Unknown to glory, but upheld by bi… The sculptor’s art exhausts the po… And storied urns record who rest b… When all is done, upon the tomb is…
‘I cannot but remember such things… And were most dear to me.’ WHEN slow Disease, with all her… Chills the warm, tide which flows… When Health, affrighted, spreads…
In the valley of the waters we wep… When the host of the stranger made… And our heads on our bosoms all dr… And our hearts were so full of the… The song they demanded in vain—it…
Thy days are done, thy fame begun; Thy country’s strains record The triumphs of her chosen Son, The slaughter of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he wo…
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea; But before I go, Tom Moore, Here’s a double health to thee! Here’s a sigh to those who love me…
