#EnglishWriters
I went into the deserts of dim sle… That world which, like an unknown… Bounds this with its recesses wide…
The world’s great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empi…
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…
My head is heavy, my limbs are wea… And it is not life that makes me m…
From the Greek. A man who was about to hang himsel… Finding a purse, then threw away h… The owner, coming to reclaim his p… The halter found; and used it. So…
I weep for Adonais –he is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our t… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
I met a traveller from an antique… Who said—“Two vast and trunkless… Stand in the desert... Near them,… Half sunk a shattered visage lies,… And wrinkled lip, and sneer of col…
Cold, cold is the blast when Dece… Cold are the damps on a dying man’… Stern are the seas when the wild w… And sad is the grave where a loved… But colder is scorn from the being…
PEOPLE of England, ye who toil… Who reap the harvests which are no… Who weave the clothes which your o… And for your own take the inclemen… Who build warm houses . . .
Dakrysi Dioisw Potmon Apotmon 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…
Oh! what is the gain of restless c… And what is ambitious treasure? And what are the joys that the mod… In their sickly haunts of pleasure… My husband’s repast with delight…
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:—
Hopes, that swell in youthful brea… Live not through the waste of time… Love’s rose a host of thorns inves… Cold, ungenial is the clime, Where its honours blow.
Hark! the owlet flaps his wings In the pathless dell beneath; Hark! ’tis the night-raven sings Tidings of approaching death.
Here, my dear friend, is a new boo… I have already dedicated two To other friends, one female and o… What you are, is a thing that I m… What can this be to those who prai…