#EnglishWriters
‘O breathe not his name!’ —Moore. Thou Great Unknown! I do not mean Eternity, nor Death… That vast incog!
I heard a gentle maiden, in the sp… Set her sweet sighs to music, and… ‘Fly through the world, and I wil… Only for looks that may turn back… ’Only for roses that your chance m…
Love thy mother, little one! Kiss and clasp her neck again,— Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in va… Love thy mother, little one!
Summer is gone on swallows’ wings, And Earth has buried all her flow… No more the lark,—the linnet—sings… But Silence sits in faded bowers. There is a shadow on the plain
No sun—no moon! No morn—no noon! No dawn—no dusk—no proper time of… No sky—no earthly view— No distance looking blue—
Oh, very gloomy is the house of wo… Where tears are falling while the… With all the dark solemnities that… That Death is in the dwelling! Oh, very, very dreary is the room
(The Argument: Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an inc...
O Lady, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: There’s living roses on the bush, And blossoms on the tree; Stoop where thou wilt, thy careles…
A Pathetic Ballad Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war’s alarms; But a cannon-ball took off his leg… So he laid down his arms.
’Twas in the prime of summer-time An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran and some…
The world is with me, and its many… Its woes—its wants—the anxious hop… That wait on all terrestrial affai… The shades of former and of future… Forboding fancies and prophetic te…
How bravely Autumn paints upon th… The gorgeous fame of Summer which… Hues of all flow’rs, that in their… Trophied in that fair light whereo… Tulip, and hyacinth, and sweet ros…
A little fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is bro… with silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters dow… She has a little silver wand,
Mother of light! how fairly dost t… Over those hoary crests, divinely… Art thou that huntress of the silv… Fabled of old? Or rather dost tho… Those cloudy summits thence to gaz…
Silence There is a silence where hath been… There is a silence where no sound… In the cold grave—under the deep,… Or in wide desert where no life is…