#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
LOVE, I speak to your heart, Your heart that is always here. Oh draw me deep to its sphere, Though you and I are apart, And yield, by the spirit’s art,
AMBITION, Cupidité, Et délicieuse Volupté, Sont les sœurs de la Destinée Après la vingt—première année.
‘TIS of the Father Hilary. He strove, but could not pray; so… The steep—coiled stair, where his… A sad blind echo. Ever up He toiled. ’Twas a sick sway of a…
O thou who at Love’s hour ecstati… Unto my heart dost evermore presen… Clothed with his fire, thy heart h… Whom I have neared and felt thy b… The inmost incense of his sanctuar…
THE thoughts in me are very calm… That think upon your love: yet by… You shall not greatly marvel that… Or nightfall—yet scarce nightfall—… Leaves me thus sad. Now if you as…
IT’S copied out at last: very poo… Writ in the cold, with pauses of t… Direct, dear William, to the Post… At Ghent—here written Gand—Gong,… We go to Antwerp first, but shall…
DERE was an old nigger, and him… And him tale was rather slow; Me try to read de whole, but me on… Because me found it no go. Den hang up de auther Mrs. Stowe,
MAGGIOR dolore è ben la Ricord… O nell’ amaro inferno amena stanza…
These coins that jostle on my hand… No single image: each name here an… Denoting in man’s consciousness an… New change. In some, the face is… In others marred. The badge of th…
In whomsoe’er, since Poesy began, A Poet most of all men we may sca… Burns of all poets is the most a…
Silesian shepherd, blesed be The sequel of that history That I have read with heart elate… Entwining it with my own fate; So dear to me the visions seem
In a dull swiftness we are carried… With bodies left at sway and shaki… The wind has ceased, or is a feebl… Warm in the sun. The leaves are n… From yesterday’s dense rain. All,…
Mother, is this the darkness of th… The Shadow of Death? and is that… Infinite imminent Eternity? And does the death—pang by man’s s… In Time’s each instant cause thy…
The turn of noontide has begun. In the weak breeze the sunshine yi… There is a bell upon the fields. On the long hedgerow’s tangled run A low white cottage intervenes:
LEAVES and rain and the days of… (Water—willow and wellaway,) All these fall, and my soul gives… And she is hence who once was here… (With a wind blown night and day.)