#EnglishWriters #Romantic
When Time, or soon or late, shall… The dreamless sleep that lulls the… Oblivion! may thy languid wing Wave gently o’er my dying bed! No band of friends or heirs be the…
I watched thee when the foe was at… Ready to strike at him—or thee and… Were safety hopeless—rather than d… Aught with one loved save love and… I watched thee on the breakers, wh…
Eternal Spirit of the chainless M… Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, t… For there thy habitation is the he… The heart which love of thee alone… And when thy sons to fetters are c…
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…
'Tis known, at least it should be,… All countries of the Catholic per… Some weeks before Shrove Tuesday… The People take their fill of rec… And buy repentance, ere they grow…
Oh! could Le Sage’s demon’s gift Be realized at my desire, This night my trembling form he’d… To place it on St. Mary’s spire. Then would, unroof’d, old Granta’…
No breath of air to break the wave That rolls below the Athenian’s g… That tomb which, gleaming o’er the… First greets the homeward-veering… High o’er the land he saved in vai…
A year ago, you swore, fond she! ‘To love, to honour,’ and so forth… Such was the vow you pledged to me… And here’s exactly what 'tis worth…
I would to heaven that I were so… As I am blood, bone, marrow, pass… Because at least the past were pas… And for the future - (but I write… Having got drunk exceedingly today…
Who killed John Keats? “I,” says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; “Twas one of my feats.” Who shot the arrow?
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…
AD LESBIAM Equal to Jove that youth must be— Greater than Jove he seems to me— Who, free from Jealousy’s alarms, Securely views thy matchless charm…
His classic studies made a little… Because of filthy loves of gods an… Who in the earlier ages raised a b… But never put on pantaloons or bod… His reverend tutors had at times a…
Oh, Friend! for ever loved, for e… What fruitless tears have bathed t… What sighs re’echo’d to thy partin… Wilst thou wast struggling in the… Could tears retard the tyrant in h…
But first, on earth as vampire sen… Thy corse shall from its tomb be r… Then ghastly haunt thy native plac… And suck the blood of all thy race… There from thy daughter, sister, w…