#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Here I sit with my paper, my pen… First of this thing, and that thin… Then my thoughts come so pell-mell… That the sense or the subject I n… This word is wrong placed,—no rega…
I stood upon a heaven-cleaving tur… Which overlooked a wide Metropoli… And in the temple of my heart my… Lay prostrate, and with parted lip… The dust of Desolations [altar] h…
Hark! the owlet flaps his wings In the pathless dell beneath; Hark! ’tis the night-raven sings Tidings of approaching death.
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to… That things depart which never may… Childhood and youth, friendship an… Have fled like sweet dreams, leavi… These common woes I feel. One los…
Wake the serpent not’lest he Should not know the way to go,— Let him crawl which yet lies sleep… Through the deep grass of the mead… Not a bee shall hear him creeping,
The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls… Now dark—now glittering—now reflec… Now lending splendour, where from… The source of human thought its tr…
“Throughout these infinite orbs of… Of which yon earth is one, is wide… A Spirit of activity and life, That knows no term, cessation, or… That fades not when the lamp of ea…
The flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world’s delight?
Oh! did you observe the Black Can… And did you observe his frown? He goeth to say the midnight mass, In holy St. Edmond’s town. He goeth to sing the burial chaunt…
Lift not the painted veil which th… Call Life: though unreal shapes b… And it but mimic all we would beli… With colours idly spread,-behind,… And Hope, twin Destinies; who eve…
The sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bri… Blue isles and snowy mountains wea… The purple noon’s transparent migh… The breath of the moist earth is l…
A Fragment PART I There was a youth, who, as with to… Had grown quite weak and gray befo… Nor any could the restless griefs…
Month after month the gathered rai… Drenching yon secret Aethiopian d… And from the desert’s ice-girt p… Where Frost and Heat in strange e… On Atlas, fields of moist snow ha…
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…
The cold earth slept below; Above the cold sky shone; And all around, With a chilling sound, From caves of ice and fields of sn…
