#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #Epigram
For me, my friend, if not that tea… In my faint eyes, and that my hear… With feelings which make rapture p… Yet, from thy voice that falsehood… I thank thee—let the tyrant keep
I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee,
As from an ancestral oak Two empty ravens sound their clari… Yell by yell, and croak by croak, When they scent the noonday smoke Of fresh human carrion:—
Silver key of the fountain of tear… Where the spirit drinks till the b… Softest grave of a thousand fears, Where their mother, Care, like a… Is laid asleep in flowers.
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…
Thy country’s curse is on thee, da… Of that foul, knotted, many-headed… Which rends our Mother’s bosom—Pr… Masked Resurrection of a buried F… II.
Ah! faint are her limbs, and her f… Yet far must the desolate wanderer… Though the tempest is stern, and t… She must quit at deep midnight her… I see her swift foot dash the dew…
Brothers! between you and me Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar: Yet in spirit oft I see On thy wild and winding shore Freedom’s bloodless banners wave,—
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… Such lovely ministers to meet
Ghosts of the dead! have I not he… Rise on the night-rolling breath o… When o’er the dark aether the temp… And on eddying whirlwind the thund… II.
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…
A gentle story of two lovers young… Who met in innocence and died in s… And of one selfish heart, whose ra… Like curses on them; are ye slow t… The lore of truth from such a tale…
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…
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
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…