#EnglishWriters #Romantic
Dorset! whose early steps with min… Exploring every path of Ida’s gla… Whom still affection taught me to… And made me less a tyrant than a f… Though the harsh custom of our you…
The King was on his throne, The Satraps throng’d the hall: A thousand bright lamps shone O’er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,
Written Under The Impression Tha… Adieu, thou Hill! where early joy Spread roses o’er my brow; Where Science seeks each loiterin… With knowledge to endow.
When Dryden’s fool, ‘unknowing wh… His hours in whistling spent, ‘for… This guiltless oaf his vacancy of… Supplied, and amply too, by innoce… Did modern swains, possess’d of C…
It is the hour when from the bough… The nightingale’s high note is hea… It is the hour—when lover’s vows Seem sweet in every whisper’d word… And gentle winds and waters near,
Dear Doctor, I have read your pla… Which is a good one in its way, Purges the eyes, and moves the bow… And drenches handkerchiefs like to… With tears that, in a flux of grie…
Oh! snatched away in beauty’s bloo… On thee shall press no ponderous t… But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of ' th… And the wild cypress wave in tende…
Sermons he read, and lectures he e… And homilies, and lives of all the… To Jerome and to Chrysostom inure… He did not take such studies for r… But how faith is acquired, and the…
Young Oak! when I planted thee de… I hoped that thy days would be lon… That thy dark‑waving branches woul… And ivy thy trunk with its mantle… Such, such was my hope, when in in…
O ye! who teach the ingenuous yout… Holland, France, England, German… I pray ye flog them upon all occas… It mends their morals, never mind… The best of mothers and of educati…
Thy verse is 'sad’ enough, no doub… A devilish deal more sad than witt… Why we should weep I can’t find o… Unless for thee we weep in pity. Yet there is one I pity more;
There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath’d with mine alone… That Destiny’s relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these ey…
The roses of Love glad the garden… Though nurtur’d 'mid weeds droppin… Till Time crops the leaves with u… Or prunes them for ever, in Love’… In vain, with endearments, we soot…
Oh! my lonely—lonely—lonely—Pillo… Where is my lover? where is my lov… Is it his bark which my dreary dre… Far—far away! and alone along the… Oh! my lonely-lonely-lonely-Pill…
WARRIORS and chiefs! should th… Pierce me in leading the host of t… Heed not the corse, though a king’… Bury your steel in the bosoms of… Thou who art bearing my buckler an…