#EnglishWriters
Heigho! the lark and the owl! One flies the morning, and one lul… Only the nightingale, poor fond so… Sings like the fool through darkne… ‘A widow bird sate mourning for he…
'What art thou, Presumptuous, who… The wreath to mighty poets only du… Even whilst like a forgotten moon… Touch not those leaves which for t… Who wander o’er the Paradise of f…
Dares the lama, most fleet of the… The lion to rouse from his skull-c… When the tiger approaches can the… Repose trust in his footsteps of a… No! Abandoned he sinks in a tranc…
Yes! all is past—swift time has fl… Yet its swell pauses on my sickeni… How long will horror nerve this fr… I’m dead, and lingers yet my soul… Oh! powerful Fate, revoke thy dea…
Methought I was a billow in the c… Of common men, that stream without… That ocean which at once is deaf a… That I, a man, stood amid many mo… By a wayside..., which the aspect…
Once, early in the morning, Beelz… With care his sweet person adornin… He put on his Sunday clothes. II. He drew on a boot to hide his hoof…
Thus to be lost and thus to sink a… Perchance were death indeed!'Co… In thy dark eyes a power like ligh… Even though the sounds which were… Between thy lips, are laid to slee…
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, to… Streams like a thunder-storm again… A glorious people vibrated again The lightning of the nations: Lib… From heart to heart, from tower to…
Emily, A ship is floating in the harbour… A wind is hovering o’er the mounta… There is a path on the sea’s azure… No keel has ever plough’d that pat…
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 . . .
Mighty eagle! thou that soarest O’er the misty mountain forest, And amid the light of morning Like a cloud of glory hiest, And when night descends defiest
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…
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…
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken… Rose leaves, when the rose is dead…
Swift as a spirit hastening to his… Of glory & of good, the Sun spran… Rejoicing in his splendour, & the… Of darkness fell from the awakened… The smokeless altars of the mounta…
