#EnglishWriters
The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met to… Kindle their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather! Night, with all thy stars look dow…
Silence! Oh, well are Death and… Three brethren named, the guardian… Of one abyss, where life, and trut… Are swallowed up—yet spare me, Sp… Until the sounds I hear become my…
‘O happy Earth, reality of Heaven… To which those restless souls that… Throng through the human universe,… Thou consummation of all mortal ho… Thou glorious prize of blindly wor…
Lift not the painted veil which th… Call Life: though unreal shapes b… And it but mimic all we would beli… With colours idly spread,-behind,… And Hope, twin Destinies; who eve…
I went into the deserts of dim sle… That world which, like an unknown… Bounds this with its recesses wide…
Corpses are cold in the tomb; Stones on the pavement are dumb; Abortions are dead in the womb, And their mothers look pale—like t… Of Albion, free no more.
From the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river—girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Listening my sweet pipings.
From the Greek of Plato. Thou wert the morning star among t… Ere thy fair light had fled;— Now, having died, thou art as Hes… New splendour to the dead.
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on t… Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a differ… And ever changing, like a joyless…
‘Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain; My hand is on thy brow, My spirit on thy brain; My pity on thy heart, poor friend; And from my fingers flow
A portal as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highway of t… Which we all tread, a cavern huge… Around it rages an unceasing strif… Of shadows, like the restless clou…
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…
The fierce beasts of the woods and… Track not the steps of him who dri… For the light breezes, which for e… Around its margin, heap the sand t…
‘Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh,’ Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit, or ca… And I, who thought
CHORUS OF SPIRITS: FIRST SPIRIT: Palace-roof of cloudless nights! Paradise of golden lights! Deep, immeasurable, vast,