#Desire #Love
... Finally, what is Reason? You… answer:— Whene’er the mist, that stands 'tw… [Sublimates] to a pure transparenc… That intercepts no light and adds…
From a letter from STC to Wordsw… In stale blank verse a subject sta… I send per post my Nightingale; And like an honest bard, dear Wor… You’ll tell me what you think, my…
Resembles Life what once was held… Too ample in itself for human sigh… An absolute Self—an element ungro… All, that we see, all colours of a… [Image]By encroach of darkness ma…
'Tis the middle of night by the ca… And the owls have awakened the cro… Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! And hark, again! the crowing cock, How drowsily it crew.
The body, Eternal Shadow of the finite Soul… The Soul’s self-symbol, its image… Its own yet not itself—
Low was our pretty Cot: our talle… Peep’d at the chamber-window. We… At silent noon, and eve, and early… The Sea’s faint murmur. In the op… Our Myrtles blossom’d; and across…
My pensive SARA! thy soft cheek… Thus on mine arm, most soothing sw… To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o’… With white-flower’d Jasmin, and t… (Meet emblems they of Innocence a…
I have experienc’d The worst, the World can wreak on… That can make Life indifferent, y… With whisper’d Discontents the dy… I have beheld the whole of all, wh…
Mark this holy chapel well! The birth-place, this, of William… Here, where stands God’s altar dr… Stood his parent’s marriage-bed. II.
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…
Water and windmills, greenness, I… Willows whose Trunks beside the s… Of their own higher half, and will… Farmhouses that at anchor seem’d—i… The fog-transfixing Spires—
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… Up scour the startling stragglers…
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…
Spirit who sweepest the wild harp… It is most hard, with an untrouble… Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear… Yet, mine eye fixed on Heaven’s u… Long had I listened, free from mo…
This Sycamore, oft musical with b… Such tents the Patriarchs loved!… May all its agèd boughs o’er—canop… The small round basin, which this… Keeps pure from falling leaves! L…