#Desire #Love
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philom… How many Bards in city garret pen… While at their window they with do… Mark the faint lamp-beam on the ke… And listen to the drowsy cry of W…
Thou bleedest, my poor heart! and… Reas’ning I ponder with a scornfu… And probe thy sore wound sternly,… Swollen be mine eye and dim with h… Why didst thou listen to Hope’s w…
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…
[exerpt] Of late, in one of those most wear… When life seems emptied of all gen… A dready mood, which he who ne’er… May bless his happy lot, I sate a…
To the River Otter Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet… How many various-fated years have… What happy and what mournful hours… I skimm’d the smooth thin stone al…
I know ‘tis but a Dream, yet feel… Than if ’twere Truth. It has been… Must I die under it? Is no one ne… Will no one hear these stifled gro…
Stop, Christian passer—by!—Stop,… And read with gentle breast. Bene… A poet lies, or that which once se… O, lift one thought in prayer for… That he who many a year with toil…
While my young cheek retains its h… And I have many friends who hold… L——! methinks, I would not often… Such melodies as thine, lest I sh… All memory of the wrongs and sore…
Whom should I choose for my Judge… Who, in the work, forgets me and t… Ye who have eyes to detect, and G… Have you the heart, too, that love… What is the meed of thy Song? 'Ti…
Like a lone Arab, old and blind, Some caravan had left behind, Who sits beside a ruin’d well, Where the shy sand—asps bask and s… And now he hangs his ag{'e}d head…
Hast thou a charm to stay the morn… In his steep course? So long he s… On thy bald awful head, O sovran… The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most a…
The Scene a desolate Tract in la… lying on the ground; to her enter… Fam. Sister! sisters! who sent yo… Slau. [to Fire.] I will whisper i… Fire. No! no! no!
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…
Ere the birth of my life, if I wi… No question was asked me—it could… If the life was the question, a th… And to live on be YES; what can… NATURE’S ANSWER
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blam… And smiles with anxious looks, his… Masking his birth-name, wont to ch… His wild-wood fancy and impetuous…