#1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics #EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
ANNIE LEE is fair and sweet, Fair and sweet to look upon; But Annie’s heart is all deceit, Therefore Annie Lee, begone! Sweeter than a golden bell
‘I HATE outlandish things, and o… I’ve little liking for the sonnet; ’Tis for a lazy Muse, and one Who hath a bumler in her bonnet. ‘Tis a humdrum song, and tho’ not…
MUST all the passion which I’ve… So long to hide be paid with scorn… And must a bosom framed for love, Be doomed a hopeless love to mourn… And must thou still its homage spu…
MY loved one appears In a vision by night, The loveliest jewel Ever gladdened the sight; With her pensive blue eyes,
CRIED Ciss to the breeze, as un… She lay at her ease, one day, ‘From thy rovings cease, and a mai… Of thy doings breeze now say! ’Be it so,' sang he; 'from the wes…
THE sun is in the western sky And thro’ the barley, she— Comes she, the apple of my eye, The rose-cheeked Rosa Rea. Away I slink the maid to meet,
A GOLDEN sun went down to-night… When lo! a vision from the olden Time, flashed on my inner sight, With smiles more tender and as gol… My blood ran cold; for I did know
LITTLE ANNA young and fair, How with heart a-dancing, I descry her image rare, O’er the footway glancing. Ah, those locks of dusky hue,
AIR—'Rossen the Beau.’ COME fill up the glass, and tho’… We tasted of gladness before, The thought of this moment for eve… Shall gladden the heart to its cor…
FROM pleasure’s cup the sage had… Till from a surfeit plagued—till l… The blossom in his nostril stank, That once had set his heart a-glow… By duty led he then began
THE stars are twinkling in the sk… As to the pit I go; I think not of the sheen on high, But of the gloom below. Not rest nor peace, but toil and s…
DUSKIER than the clouds that li… ‘Tween the coal-pit and the sky, Lo, how Willy whistles by Right cheery from the colliree. Duskier might the laddie be
JUST let the Owl of Evil howl; To mourners of each rank and stati… Come, troll the Golden Bowl! And quaff me with a deep potation. Each sparkling droplet to the soul
LITTLE Anna, cruel elf, Spite of all my reason, She, she puts me from myself, In and out of season; Ah, the imp! ah, the shrimp!
center A new song to an old tune. AWAY to the pic-nic at Ryton, aw… Went off in the sunrise our younke… And many were bonny and many were…