#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
The butterfly the ancient Grecian… The soul’s fair emblem, and its on… But of the soul, escaped the slavi… Of mortal life!—For in this earth… Ours is the reptile’s lot, much to…
Sweet flower! that peeping from th… Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange… This dark, frieze—coated, hoarse,… Hath borrowed Zephyr’s voice, and… With blue voluptuous eye) alas poo…
Lady. If Love be dead (and you aver it!… Tell me, Bard! where Love lies bu… Poet. Love lies buried where 'twas born,
I sigh, fair injured stranger! for… But what shall sighs avail thee?… ‘Mid all the ’pomp and circumstanc… Shivers in nakedness. Unbidden, s… Sad recollections of Hope’s garis…
Ye Clouds! that far above me floa… Whose pathless march no mortal may… Ye Ocean—Waves! that, wheresoe’er… Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods! that listen to the nigh…
Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of scepter’d state,
When youth his fairy reign began, Ere sorrow had proclaimed me man; While peace the present hour begui… And all the lovely prospect smiled… Then, Mary! 'mid my lightsome gle…
My eyes make pictures when they’re… I see a fountain large and fair, A Willow and a ruined Hut, And thee, and me, and Mary there. O Mary! make thy gentle lap our p…
When Hope but made Tranquillity b… A Flight of Hopes for ever on the… But made Tranquillity a conscious… And wheeling round and round in sp… Fann’d the calm air upon the brow…
The Frost performs its secret min… Unhelped by any wind. The owlet’s… Came loud—and hark, again! loud as… The inmates of my cottage, all at… Have left me to that solitude, whi…
Sea—ward, white gleaming thro’ the… With arching Wings, the sea—mew o… Posts on, as bent on speed, now pa… Edges the stiffer Breeze, now, yi… Now floats upon the air, and sends…
Never, believe me, Appear the Immortals, Never alone: Scarce had I welcomed the Sorrow-… Iacchus! but in came Boy Cupid th…
Lines composed while climbing the… With many a pause and oft reverted… I climb the Coomb’s ascent: sweet… Warble in shade their wild-wood me… Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soot…
Ter. But that entrance, Selma? Sel. Can no one hear? It is a per… Ter. No one. Sel. My husband’s father told it… Poor old Sesina—angels rest his s…
Oft o’er my brain does that strang… Which makes the present (while the… Seem a mere semblance of some unkn… Mixed with such feelings, as perpl… Self-questioned in her sleep: and…
