#EnglishWriters
Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on Day and night, and night and day,
Stern, stern is the voice of fate’… When accents of horror it breathes… Or compels us for aye bid adieu to… Where exists that loved friend to… 'Tis sterner than death o’er the s…
'Here lieth One whose name was wr… But, ere the breath that could era… Death, in remorse for that fell sl… Death, the immortalizing winter, f… Athwart the stream,—and time’s pri…
Now the last day of many days, All beautiful and bright as thou, The loveliest and the last, is dea… Rise, Memory, and write its prais… Up,—to thy wonted work! come, trac…
A Fragment PART I There was a youth, who, as with to… Had grown quite weak and gray befo… Nor any could the restless griefs…
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
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing Heaven, and gazing on… Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a differ… And ever changing, like a joyless…
Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of… Who denies verse to Gallus? So, w… Glidest beneath the green and purp… Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou f…
Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me? Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee? Ah! why was love to mortals given,
A woodman whose rough heart was ou… (I think such hearts yet never cam… Hated to hear, under the stars or… One nightingale in an interfluous… Satiate the hungry dark with melod…
Rome has fallen, ye see it lying Heaped in undistinguished ruin: Nature is alone undying.
Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent… Sweet-basil and mignonette? Embleming love and health, which n… In the same wreath might be. Alas, and they are wet!
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.
The fountains mingle with the rive… And the rivers with the ocean; The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single;
Fierce roars the midnight storm O’er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain— See! o’er yon rocky height,