#EnglishWriters
Yes, now the longing is o’erpast, Which, dogg’d by fear and fought b… Shook her weak bosom day and night… Consum’d her beauty like a flame, And dimm’d it like the desert blas…
Mist clogs the sunshine. Smoky dwarf houses Hem me round everywhere; A vague dejection Weighs down my soul.
That son of Italy who tried to bl… Ere Dante came, the trump of sacr… In his light youth amid a festal t… Sate with his bride to see a publi… Fair was the bride, and on her fro…
Still glides the stream, slow drop… Under the rustling poplars’ shade; Silent the swans beside us float— None speaks, none heeds; ah, turn… Let those arch eyes now softly shi…
GOD knows it, I am with you. If… Those virtues, priz’d and practis’… But priz’d, but lov’d, but eminent… Man’s fundamental life: if to desp… The barren optimistic sophistries
Crouch’d on the pavement close by… A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and to… A babe was in her arms, and at her… A girl; their clothes were rags, t… Some labouring men, whose work lay…
Artist, whose hand, with horror wi… From the rank life of towns this l… The prodigy of full-blown crime am… Valleys and men to middle fortune… Not innocent, indeed, yet not forl…
WHO taught this pleading to unpra… Who hid such import in an infant’s… Who lent thee, child, this meditat… What clouds thy forehead, and fore… Lo! sails that gleam a moment and…
THEY are gone: all is still: Foo… Nothing moves on the lawn but the… Far up gleams the house, and benea… Here lean, my head, on this cool b… Ere he come: ere the boat, by the…
Go, for they call you, shepherd, f… Go, shepherd, and untie the wattle… No longer leave thy wistful flock… Nor let thy bawling fellows rack t… Nor the cropp’d herbage shoot anot…
Before man parted for this earthly… While yet upon the verge of heaven… God put a heap of letters in his h… And bade him make with them what w… And man has turn’d them many times…
Weary of myself, and sick of askin… What I am, and what I ought to be… At this vessel’s prow I stand, wh… Forwards, forwards, o’er the starl… And a look of passionate desire
If, in the silent mind of One all… At first imagin’d lay The sacred world; and by processio… From those still deeps, in form an… Seasons alternating, and night and…
Was it a dream? We sail’d, I thou… Martin and I, down the green Alpi… Border’d, each bank, with pines; t… On the wet umbrage of their glossy… On the red pinings of their forest…
Hark! ah, the nightingale— The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what… What triumph! hark!—what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore,