#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Ch… SCENE. The Shore of the Lake o… HELEN Come hither, my sweet Rosalind. 'T is long since thou and I have…
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…
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…
Hark! the owlet flaps her wing, In the pathless dell beneath, Hark! night ravens loudly sing, Tidings of despair and death.— Horror covers all the sky,
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! I know the secrets of the air, And things are lost in the glare o… Which I can make the sleeping see…
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…
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…
[I am afraid these verses will not… If I esteemed you less, Envy woul… Pleasure, and leave to Wonder and… The ministration of the thoughts t… The mind which, like a worm whose…
Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twin… Whom the fair-ankled Leda, mixed… With mighty Saturn’s Heaven-obs… On Taygetus, that lofty mountain… Brought forth in joy: mild Pollux…
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…
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…
Earth, ocean, air, belovèd brother… If our great Mother has imbued my… With aught of natural piety to fee… Your love, and recompense the boon… If dewy morn, and odorous noon, an…
DEATH: For my dagger is bathed in the blo… I come, care-worn tenant of life,… Where Innocence sleeps 'neath the… And the good cease to tremble at…
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…
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…
