#EnglishWriters
I loved’alas! our life is love; But when we cease to breathe and m… I do suppose love ceases too. I thought, but not as now I do, Keen thoughts and bright of linked…
BY MICHING MALLECHO, Esq. Is it a party in a parlour, Crammed just as they on earth were… Some sipping punch-some sipping te… But, as you by their faces see,
Why is it said thou canst not live In a youthful breast and fair, Since thou eternal life canst give… Canst bloom for ever there? Since withering pain no power poss…
The spider spreads her webs, wheth… In poet’s tower, cellar, or barn,… The silk-worm in the dark green mu… His winding sheet and cradle ever… So I, a thing whom moralists call…
So now my summer task is ended, M… And I return to thee, mine own he… As to his Queen some victor Knigh… Earning bright spoils for her inch… Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame…
... And many there were hurt by that s… His name, they said, was Pleasure… And near him stood, glorious beyon… Four Ladies who possess all emper…
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fa… Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill… Shepherd those herds whom tyranny… Verse echoes not one beating of th… History is but the shadow of their…
ACCORDING to one mode of regarding those two classes of mental action, which are called reason and imagination, the former may be considered as mind contemplating the relations borne by...
PEOPLE of England, ye who toil… Who reap the harvests which are no… Who weave the clothes which your o… And for your own take the inclemen… Who build warm houses . . .
I weep for Adonais –he is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our t… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
Wealth and dominion fade into the… Of the great sea of human right an… When once from our possession they… But love, though misdirected, is a… The things which are immortal, and…
Thy country’s curse is on thee, da… Of that foul, knotted, many-headed… Which rends our Mother’s bosom—Pr… Masked Resurrection of a buried F… II.
How eloquent are eyes! Not the rapt poet’s frenzied lay When the soul’s wildest feelings s… Can speak so well as they. How eloquent are eyes!
From the Greek of Plato. Kissing Helena, together With my kiss, my soul beside it Came to my lips, and there I kept… For the poor thing had wandered th…
A hater he came and sat by a ditch… And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more… ‘Gainst a woman that was a brute.
