#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
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…
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…
Underneath an old oak tree There was of swine a huge company That grunted as they crunched the… For that was ripe, and fell full f… Then they trotted away, for the wi…
When faint and sad o’er sorrow’s d… Slow journeys onward poor misfortu… When fades each lovely form by fan… And inly pines the self-consuming… (No scourge of scorpions in thy ri…
What if you slept And what if In your sleep You dreamed And what if
Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. ‘What no one with us shares, seems scarce our own.’ ...
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…
Stretched on a mouldered Abbey’s… Where ruining ivies propped the ru… Her folded arms wrapping her tatte… Had Melancholy mused herself to s… The fern was pressed beneath her h…
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given… She sent the gentle sleep from He… That slid into my soul.
Myrtle leaf, that ill besped Pinest in the gladsome ray, Soiled beneath the common tread Far from thy protecting spray! When the partridge o’er the sheaf
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…
Maid of my love! sweet Genevieve! In beauty’s light you glide along; Your eye is like the star of eve, And sweet your voice, as seraph’s… Yet not your heavenly beauty gives
Sweet Mercy! how my very heart ha… To see thee, poor old man! and thy… Hoar with the snowy blast; while n… To clothe thy shrivelled limbs and… My Father! throw away this tatter…
The body, Eternal Shadow of the finite Soul… The Soul’s self-symbol, its image… Its own yet not itself—
