#EnglishWriters
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save
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…
Tan ala tan glaukan otan onemos at… When winds that move not its calm… The azure sea, I love the land no… The smiles of the serene and tranq… Tempt my unquiet mind.—But when t…
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…
By the mossy brink, With me the Prince shall sit and… Shall muse in visioned Regency, Rapt in bright dreams of dawning…
I faint, I perish with my love! I… Frail as a cloud whose [splendours… Under the evening’s ever-changing… I die like mist upon the gale, And like a wave under the calm I…
There is a warm and gentle atmosph… About the form of one we love, and… As in a tender mist our spirits ar… Wrapped in the of that which is to… The health of life’s own life—
My faint spirit was sitting in the… Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hind a… For the brooks, my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the…
'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…
Now the last day of many days, All beautiful and bright as thou, The loveliest and the last, is dea… Rise, Memory, and write its prais… Up,—to thy wonted work! come, trac…
The serpent is shut out from Para… The wounded deer must seek the her… In which its heart-cure lies: The widowed dove must cease to hau… Like that from which its mate with…
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…
What men gain fairly—that they sho… And children may inherit idleness, From him who earns it’This is u… Private injustice may be general g… But he who gains by base and armed…
Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me? Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee? Ah! why was love to mortals given,
O thou immortal deity Whose throne is in the depth of hu… I do adjure thy power and thee By all that man may be, by all tha… By all that he has been and yet mu…