#EnglishWriters #Romantic
Since now the hour is come at last… When you must quit your anxious lo… Since now our dream of bliss is pa… One pang, my girl, and all is over… Alas! that pang will be severe,
JOHN ADAMS lies here, of the p… A Carrier who carried his can to… He carried so much, and he carried… He could carry no more‑so was carr… For, the liquor he drank, being to…
Whene’er I view those lips of thi… Their hue invites my fervent kiss; Yet, I forego that bliss divine, Alas! it were——unhallow’d bliss. Whene’er I dream of that pure bre…
And thou art dead, as young and fa… As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so ra… Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth receiv’d them in her…
Strahan, Tonson Lintot of the tim… Patron and publisher of rhymes, For thee the bard up Pindus climb… My Murray. To thee, with hope and terror dumb…
Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys… Who lead’st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys… At length, in spells no longer bou…
This day, of all our days, has don… The worst for me and you:- 'Tis just six years since we were… And five since we were two.
For Oxford and for Waldegrave You give much more than me you gav… Which is not fairly to behave, My Murray. Because if a live dog, 'tis said,
When the moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the grass, And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the morass; When the falling stars are shootin…
’TIS time this heart should be un… Since others it hath ceased to mov… Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf;
The wild gazelle on Judah’s hills… Exulting yet may bound, And drink from all the living rill… That gush on holy ground: Its airy step and glorious eye
Bright be the place of thy soul! No lovelier spirit than thine E’er burst from its mortal control In the orbs of the blessed to shin… On earth thou wert all but divine,
But first, on earth as vampire sen… Thy corse shall from its tomb be r… Then ghastly haunt thy native plac… And suck the blood of all thy race… There from thy daughter, sister, w…
There is a tear for all that die, A mourner o’er the humblest grave; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave… For them is Sorrow’s purest sigh
When Dryden’s fool, ‘unknowing wh… His hours in whistling spent, ‘for… This guiltless oaf his vacancy of… Supplied, and amply too, by innoce… Did modern swains, possess’d of C…