#EnglishWriters
Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day
The death knell is ringing The raven is singing The earth worm is creeping The mourners are weeping Ding dong, bell—
How stern are the woes of the deso… As he bends in still grief o’er th… As enanguished he turns from the l… And drops to perfection’s remembra… When floods of despair down his pa…
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…
A scene, which 'wildered fancy vie… In the soul’s coldest solitude, With that same scene when peaceful… Flings rapture’s colour o’er the g… When mountain, meadow, wood and st…
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.
The viewless and invisible Conseq… Watches thy goings-out, and coming… And... hovers o’er thy guilty slee… Unveiling every new-born deed, and… More ghastly than those deeds—
The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing— Away!
Yet look on me—take not thine eyes… Which feed upon the love within mi… Which is indeed but the reflected… Of thine own beauty from my spirit… Yet speak to me—thy voice is as th…
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is il… Which severs those it should unite… Let us remain together still, Then it will be good night. How can I call the lone night goo…
Is not to-day enough? Why do I pe… Into the darkness of the day to co… Is not to-morrow even as yesterday… And will the day that follows chan… Few flowers grow upon thy wintry w…
No trump tells thy virtues’the g… With thy dust shall remain unpollu… Till thy foes, by the world and by… Shall pass like a mist from the li… VII.
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,—
ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdain’d For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair
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…
