#English #Victorians #XIXCentury #Imagery #RhymedStanza Aubade
Si credere dignum est.—Virgil,… Oh, worthy of belief I hold it wa… Virgil, your legend in those stran… No question, that adventure came t… One black night in Arcadia: yes,…
Boot, saddle, to horse and away! Rescue my Castle, before the hot… Brightens to blue from its silvery… (Chorus) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Cleon the poet (from the sprinkled… Lily on lily, that o’erlace the se… And laugh their pride when the lig… To Protus in his Tyranny: much he… They give thy letter to me, even n…
Escape me? Never— Beloved! While I am I, and you are you, So long as the world contains us b…
I said—-Then, dearest, since 'tis… Since now at length my fate I kno… Since nothing all my love avails, Since all, my life seemed meant fo… Since this was written and needs m…
There’s a palace in Florence, the… And a statue watches it from the s… And this story of both do our town… Ages ago, a lady there, At the farthest window facing the…
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! Rescue my Castle, before the hot… Brightens the blue from its silver… (Chorus) “Boot, saddle, to horse,… Ride past the suburbs, asleep as y…
My heart sank with our Claret-fla… Just now, beneath the heavy sedges That serve this pond's black face… And still at yonder broken edges O' the hole, where up the bubbles…
Let them fight it out, friend! thi… God must judge the couple: leave t… —-Whichever one’s the guiltless, t… And whichever one the guilt’s with… II.
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of her… And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of he… II.
Ah, did you once see Shelley plai… And did he stop and speak to you? And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems, and new! But you were living before that,
WHAT girl but, having gathered f… Stript the beds and spoilt the bow… From the lapful light she carries Drops a careless bud?—nor tarries To regain the waif and stray:
THE MORN when first it thunders… The eel in the pond gives a leap,… As I leaned and looked over the a… Of the villa-gate this warm March… No flash snapped, no dumb thunder…
Oh, what a dawn of day! How the March sun feels like May! All is blue again After last night’s rain, And the South dries the hawthorn-…
. All June I bound the rose in shea… Now, rose by rose, I strip the le… And strew them where Pauline may… She will not turn aside? Alas!
