#EnglishWriters
She’s up and gone, the graceless g… And robb’d my failing years! My blood before was thin and cold But now ’tis turn’d to tears;— My shadow falls upon my grave,
A WANDERER, Wilson, from my n… Remote, O Rae, from godliness and… Where rolls between us the eternal… Besides some furlongs of a foreign… Beyond the broadest Scotch of Lon…
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold Molten, graven, hammered and rolle… Heavy to get and light to hold, Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold…
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;
Look how the lark soars upward and… Turning a spirit as he nears the s… His voice is heard, but body there… To fix the vague excursions of the… So, poets’ songs are with us, tho’…
No sun - no moon! No morn– no noon – No dawn– no dusk– no proper time o… No warmth, no cheerfulness, no hea… No comfortable feel in any member…
Oh, very gloomy is the house of wo… Where tears are falling while the… With all the dark solemnities that… That Death is in the dwelling! Oh, very, very dreary is the room
Far above the hollow Tempest, and its moan, Singeth bright Apollo In his golden zone,— Cloud doth never shade him,
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy… And play to me so cheerily; For grief is dark, and care is sha… And life wears on so wearily. Oh! take thy harp!
‘On the east coast, towards Tunis, the Moors still preserve the key of their ancestors’ houses in Spain; to which country they still express the hopes of one day returning and again pla...
I had a gig-horse, and I called h… Because on Sundays for a little j… He was so fast and showy, quite a… Although he sometimes kicked and s… I had a chaise, and christened it…
The stars are with the voyager Wherever he may sail; The moon is constant to her time; The sun will never fail; But follow, follow round the world…
Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how I wake and passionate watches keep… And yet while I address thee now, Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep… ’Tis sweet enough to make me weep,
She was a woman peerless in her st… With household virtues wedded to h… Spotless in linen, grass-bleached… And pure and clear-starched in her… Thence in my Castle of Imaginatio…
Thou happy, happy elf! (But stop,—first let me kiss away… Thou tiny image of myself! (My love, he’s poking peas into hi… Thou merry, laughing sprite!