#1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics #EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
THE rogue, she smiled, then swept… Her raven locks behind her streami… My very pulse forgot to play, And I was left in wonder dreaming… The Pleiads lost their charms tha…
LA, what a Night! The hag has… In hue to prove a chimla sweeper; And did the North not blow his ho… No star would dare to show its pee… How black her look!—(Just like th…
AWAY to the well lilted Annie; Away with her skiel to the well; Away to the well whistled Johnnie… The pride and delight of the dell. Sweet, sweet is the well; but ah,…
FLY not away, wee birdie, pray! No weasels we, no evil-bringers, Would make thee bear the pangs tha… Too oft the hearts of sweetest sin… Long may thy nest with eggs be ble…
I GO—from all earth can give, riv… By fate’s sternest mandate—so—so, A Queen in a fiery car driven, To meet her god-lover—I go. That blissful reunion to hasten,
BEWILDERED by Life’s Gordian… Despair had flung her adamantine c… When thro’ the abyss of my spirit… A deep voice cried, and “Glory!”… “A spark eternal from the co-etern…
CAN this be her? Her dark eyes… Two planets in the midnight heaven… Her cheeks the blood-dyed rose—her… The snow upon the mountains driven… Her tongue’s a silver bell to hear…
Last night at the Fair did I lose… I hunted thee south and I hunted… I’d rather than lost thee have los… That all the great lords in the ki… Heart-sorry in worry and flurry di…
BACK flies my soul to other year… When thou that charming lay repeat… When smiles were only chased by te… Yet sweeter far than smiles the sw… Thy music ends, and where are they…
YOU quite mistake the sprite you… I’m of the under, not the upper, Order of the fairy race; And cannot go with you to supper. ‘You silly elf, Titania’s self
THEE glory of her charms I felt, And thro’ my frame electric ran What made my stubborn heart to mel… And feel as hearts of passion can; And from that hour, her eyes of je…
THE hopes that allured me To cope with the worst, At length have secured me The tortures accurst, Of fever and grief,
O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht… Is thy latest prospect gone? Must my task be thus relinquisht Ere my noble end is won? Must I die, and be remember’d
THE DITTY. O, BECKY SHARP, dear Becky S… So very clever and so witty; I’m half inclined your praise to h… In one, at least, well-worded ditt…
SHE took the wood thro’ which she… But in the lake near which she wen… An image met, and swayed and swung… And three times with her image ble… The vision from that mirror fled,