#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
From his brimstone bed at break of… A walking the DEVIL is gone, To visit his little snug farm of t… And see how his stock went on. Over the hill and over the dale,
[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…
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…
'Twas my last waking thought, how… That thou, sweet friend, such angu… When straight from Dreamland came… Could tell the cause, forsooth, an… Methought he fronted me with peeri…
The tedded hay, the first-fruits o… The tedded hay and corn-sheaves in… Show summer gone, ere come. The f… Sheds its loose purple bells, or i… Or when it bends beneath the up-sp…
Thou gentle Look, that didst my s… Why hast thou left me? Still in s… Revisit my sad heart, auspicious… As falls on closing flowers the lu… What time, in sickly mood, at part…
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…
This is now—this was erst, Proposition the first—and Problem… On a given finite Line Which must no way incline; To describe an equi—
The piteous sobs that choke the V… For him, the fair betrothed Youth… Cold in the narrow dwelling, or th… With which a Mother wails her Dar… These from our Nature’s common im…
At midnight by the stream I roved… To forget the form I loved. Image of Lewti! from my mind Depart; for Lewti is not kind. The Moon was high, the moonlight…
Though friendships differ endless… The sorts, methinks, may be reduce… Ac quaintance many, and Con quain… But for In quaintance I know only… The friend I’ve mourned with, and…
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…
Schiller! that hour I would have… If thro’ the shudd’ring midnight… From the dark Dungeon of the Towe… That fearful voice, a famished Fa… That in no after moment aught less…
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose,
Where graced with many a classic s… Cam rolls his reverend stream alon… I haste to urge the learned toil That sternly chides my love-lorn s… Ah me! too mindful of the days
