#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
Charles! my slow heart was only sa… I scanned that face of feeble infa… For dimly on my thoughtful spirit… All I had been, and all my babe m… But when I saw it on its Mother’s…
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…
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…
As some vast Tropic tree, itself… That crests its Head with clouds,… Feeds its deep roots, and with the… Of its wide base controls the fron… (By the slant current’s pressure s…
Dim hour! that sleep’st on pillowi… O rise and yoke the turtles to thy… Bend o’er the traces, blame each l… And give me to the bosom of my lov… My gentle love, caressing and care…
Oh! not by Cam or Isis, famous st… In arched groves, the youthful poe… Nor while half-listening, mid deli… To harp and song from lady’s hand… Nor yet while gazing in sublimer m…
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…
Alas! they had been friends in you… But whispering tongues can poison… And constancy lives in realms abov… And life is thorny; and youth is v… And to be wroth with one we love,
On the wide level of a mountain’s… (I knew not where, but 'twas some… Their pinions, ostrich-like, for s… Two lovely children run an endless… A sister and a brother!
Pale Roamer thro’ the Night! thou… Remorse that man on his death-bed… Who in the credulous hour of tende… Betrayed, then cast thee forth to… The World is pityless; the Chaste…
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…
(Beareth all things.—-1 Cor. xiii… Gently I took that which ungently… And without scorn forgave:—Do tho… A wrong done to thee think a cat’s… Thou wouldst not see, were not thi…
As when far off the warbled strain… That soar on Morning’s wing the v… Within his cage th’ imprisoned mat… Swells the full chorus with a gene… He bathes no pinion in the dewy li…
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.
A blessed lot hath he, who having… His youth and early manhood in the… And turmoil of the world, retreats… With cares that move, not agitate… To the same dwelling where his fat…
