#EnglishWriters
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don’t go far; The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar. Some fret themselves to death
Tim Turpin he was gravel-blind, And ne’er had seen the skies: For Nature, when his head was mad… Forgot to dot his eyes. So, like a Christmas pedagogue,
I Remember, I Remember I remember, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn;
BIANCA!—fair Bianca!—who could… With safety on her dark and hazel… Nor find there lurk’d in it a witc… Fatal to balmy nights and blessed… The peaceful breath that made the…
And has the earth lost its so spac… The sky its blue circumference abo… That in this little chamber there… Both earth and heaven—my universe… All that my God can give me, or r…
Ah me! those old familiar bounds! That classic house, those classic… My pensive thought recalls! What tender urchins now confine, What little captives now repine,
Young ardent soul, graced with fai… Spring warmth of heart, and ferven… And still a large late love of all… Spite of the world’s cold practice… For all these gifts, I know not,…
O Lady, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: There’s living roses on the bush, And blossoms on the tree; Stoop where thou wilt, thy careles…
Full of drink and full of meat, On our SAVIOUR’S natal day, CHARITY’S perennial treat; Thus I heard a Pauper say:— ‘Ought not I to dance and sing
Come, let us set our careful breas… Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief, That makes her accents so forlorn; The world has many cruel points,
Still glides the gentle streamlet… With shifting current new and stra… The water that was here is gone, But those green shadows do not cha… Serene, or ruffled by the storm,
I heard a gentle maiden, in the sp… Set her sweet sighs to music, and… ‘Fly through the world, and I wil… Only for looks that may turn back… ’Only for roses that your chance m…
I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom, therefore, I will shun; The cowslip is a country wench,
I gaze upon a city,— A city new and strange,— Down many a watery vista My fancy takes a range; From side to side I saunter,
No popular respect will I omit To do thee honor on this happy day… When every loyal lover tasks his w… His simple truth in studious rhyme… And to his mistress dear his hopes…