#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
WHERE be ye going, you Devon ma… And what have ye there i’ the bask… Ye tight little fairy, just fresh… Will ye give me some cream if I a… I love your meads, and I love you…
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring… Among the bushes half leafless, an… The stars look very cold about the… And I have many miles on foot to… Yet feel I little of the cool ble…
I had a dove, and the sweet dove d… And I have thought it died of gri… O, what could it grieve for? its f… With a single thread of my own han… Sweet little red feet, why should…
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wi… Alone and palely loitering? The sedge is withered from the lak… And no birds sing. Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wi…
Hither, hither, love — ‘Tis a shady mead — Hither, hither, love! Let us feed and feed! Hither, hither, sweet —
ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. “THE STRETCHED METRE… INSCRIBED TO THE MEM… Book I
This living hand, now warm and cap… Of earnest grasping, would, if it… And in the icy silence of the tomb… So haunt thy days and chill thy dr… That thou wouldst wish thine own h…
Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak… Upon the top of Nevis, blind in m… I look into the chasms, and a shro… Vapourous doth hide them,—just so… Mankind do know of hell; I look o…
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…
Son of the old Moon-mountains Afr… Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodil… We call thee fruitful, and that ve… A desert fills our seeing’s inward… Nurse of swart nations since the w…
Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port… Away with old Hock and madeira, Too earthly ye are for my sport; There’s a beverage brighter and cl… Instead of a piriful rummer,
Good Kosciusko, thy great name al… Is a full harvest whence to reap h… It comes upon us like the glorious… Of the wide spheres—an everlasting… And now it tells me, that in world…
In after-time, a sage of mickle lo… Yclep’d Typographus, the Giant to… And did refit his limbs as heretof… And made him read in many a learne… And into many a lively legend look…
There was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in all Inverness-shire who got up this Mountain some few years ago—true she had her servants—but then she had her sel...
Souls of Poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine