#EnglishWriters
An old, mad, blind, despised, and… Princes, the dregs of their dull r… Through public scorn,—mud from a m… Rulers who neither see nor feel no… But leechlike to their fainting co…
A golden-winged Angel stood Before the Eternal Judgement-seat… His looks were wild, and Devils’… Stained his dainty hands and feet. The Father and the Son
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?
The odour from the flower is gone Which like thy kisses breathed on… The colour from the flower is flow… Which glowed of thee and only thee… II.
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…
Extract from Poetical Essay Millions to fight compell’d, to fi… In mangled heaps on War’s red alt… When the legal murders swell the l… When glory’s views the titled idio…
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it… Who dares arrest the wheels of des… And plunge me in the lowest Hell… Will not the lightning’s blast des… Will not steel drink the blood-lif…
Dakrysi Dioisw Potmon Apotmon Oh! there are spirits of the air, And genii of the evening breeze, And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fa… As star-beams among twilight trees…
And the cloven waters like a chasm… Stood, and received him in its mig… And led him through the deep’s u… He went in wonder through the path… Of his great Mother and her humid…
Swiftly walk o’er the western wave… Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone dayli… Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear…
WHEN the lamp is shatter’d, The light in the dust lies dead; When the cloud is scatter’d, The rainbow’s glory is shed; When the lute is broken,
Published by Edward Dowden, “Cor… If gibbets, axes, confiscations, c… And racks of subtle torture, if th… Of shame, of fiery Hell’s tempest… Seen through the caverns of the sh…
The keen stars were twinkling, And the fair moon was rising among… Dear Jane. The guitar was tinkling, But the notes were not sweet till…
My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth… Upon the silver waves of thy sweet… And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it,
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…