#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
High-mindedness, a jealousy for go… A loving-kindness for the great ma… Dwells here and there with people… In noisome alley, and in pathless… And where we think the truth least…
Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand cli… How many mice and rats hast in thy… Destroy’d? How many tit bits stol… With those bright languid segments… Those velvet ears—but pr’ythee do…
To-night I’ll have my friar—let m… About my room,—I’ll have it in th… It should be rich and sombre, and… Just in its mid-life in the midst… Should look thro’ four large windo…
O soft embalmer of the still midni… Shutting, with careful fingers and… Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d… Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; O soothest Sleep! if so it please…
BRIGHT Star, would I were stea… Not in lone splendour hung aloft t… And watching, with eternal lids ap… Like Nature’s patient sleepless E… The moving waters at their priest-…
Who loves to peer up at the mornin… With half-shut eyes and comfortabl… Let him with this sweet tale full… For meadows where the little river… Who loves to linger with that brig…
O Solitude! if I must with thee d… Let it not be among the jumbled he… Of murky buildings; climb with me… Nature’s observatory—whence the de… Its flowery slopes, its river’s cr…
There are who lord it o’er their f… With most prevailing tinsel: who u… Their baaing vanities, to browse a… The comfortable green and juicy ha… From human pastures; or, O tortur…
Happy is England! I could be cont… To see no other verdure than its o… To feel no other breezes than are… Through its tall woods with high r… Yet do I sometimes feel a languis…
When I have fears that I may ceas… Before my pen has glean’d my teemi… Before high piled books, in charac… Hold like rich garners the full-ri… When I behold, upon the night’s s…
As Hermes once took to his feathe… When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon… So on a Delphic reed, my idle spr… So play’d, so charm’d, so conquer’… The dragon—world of all its hundre…
'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright, And the stars they glisten, gliste… Seeming with bright eyes to listen… For what listen they?
The church bells toll a melancholy… Calling the people to some other p… Some other gloominess, more dreadf… More hearkening to the sermon’s ho… Surely the mind of man is closely…
Here all the summer could I stay, For there’s Bishop’s teign And King’s teign And Coomb at the clear Teign head… Where close by the stream
Where’s the Poet? Show him! show… Muses nine! that I may know him! ‘Tis the man, who with a man Is an equal, be he King, Or poorest of the beggar-clan,