#EnglishWriters
Oft let me wander hand in hand wit… In woodland paths, and lone seques… What time the sunny banks and moss… With dewy wreaths of early violets… Into the air their fragrant incens…
Thou comest not in sober guise, In mellow cloak of russet clad— Thine are no melancholy skies, Nor hueless flowers pale and sad; But, like an emperor, triumphing,
Three windows cheerfully poured in… One from the east, where o’er the… The sun first rose on the great R… And shining o’er the garden, with… Vine-trellises, and heaps of rosy…
Thou art like the bird that alight… Though the frail spray bends—for h…
’Tis only the nightingale’s warble… That floats through the evening sk… With his note of love, he replies… To the muezzin’s holy cry; As it sweetly sounds on the rosy a…
Oh, sunny Love! Crowned with fresh flowering May, Breath like the Indian clove, Eyes like the dawn of day; Oh, sunny Love!
Poor little sprite! in that dark,… Caged by the law of man’s resistle… With thy sweet, liquid notes, by s… Compelled to minister to his delig… Whence, what art thou? art thou a…
Lady, whom my beloved loves so wel… When on his clasping arm thy head… When on thy lips his ardent kisses… And the bright flood of burning li… In his dark eyes, is poured into t…
Let me not die for ever! when I’m… In the cold earth; but let my memo… Live still among ye, like the even… That o’er the sinking day steals p… Let me not be forgotten! though th…
My feet shall tread no more thy mo… When once they turn away, thou Pl… Nor ever more, reflected in thy ti… Will shine the eyes of the White… But often in my dreams, when I am…
WHO FELL FROM A PRECI… What said to thee those angels ter… Whose sudden pinions swept thee fr… When o’er us all the awful horror… That turned thy mid-day sunshine i…
Sleep, Venice, sleep! the evening… Over the waves that rock thee on t… The bugle blare to kennel calls th… Who sleepless watch thy waking and… Sleep till the night stars do the…
Short was the season of our interc… And born, it seem’d, of wayward ac… Yet ne’er before was friendship’s… More sorely needed, or more kindly… The wand’ring winds, that seem no…
Art thou already weary of the way? Thou who hast yet but half the way… Get up, and lift thy burthen: lo,… Thy feet the road goes stretching… If thou already faint, who hast bu…
Are they indeed the bitterest tear… Those we let fall over the silent… Can our thoughts image forth no da… Than that which wraps us in the pe… Whom have ye laid beneath that mos…