#EnglishWriters
—anankta ton pantôn huperbal– lonta chronon makarôn. Pindar. Hymn. frag. 33 Spirit of the days of yore! Thou! who, in thy haunted cave,
[To the tune of “Turning, turning… RECITATIVE. MR. PAPERST… Jack Horner’s CHRISTMAS PIE… Interpreted to mean the public pur… From thence a plum he drew. O hap…
In life three ghostly friars were… And now three friarly ghosts we be… Around our shadowy table placed, The spectral bowl before us floats… With wine that none but ghosts can…
’Tis midnight: the sky is with clo… The forest-trees bend in the loud-… The rain strongly beats on these t… The lightning pours swiftly its bl… Triumphant the tempest-fiend rides…
The ivy o’er the mouldering wall Spreads like a tree, the growth of… The wild wind through the doorless… A melancholy music rears, A solitary voice, that sighs
’Tis said the rose is Love’s own… Its blush so bright, its thorns so… And winter on its bloom has power, But has not on its sweetness any. For though young Love’s ethereal…
Hark! o’er the silent waters steal… The dash of oars sounds soft and c… Through night’s deep veil, all for… Nearer it comes, and yet more near… See! where the long reflection gli…
Forasmuch as the Canter’s and Fan… Sayeth peace and joy are by me abh… And would fill each Sunday with g… For all too poor his regard to obt… And forasmuch as the laws heretofo…
THE LADY. O cavalier! what dost thou here, Thy tuneful vigils keeping; While the northern star looks cold… And half the world is sleeping?
I dug, beneath the cypress shade, What well might seem an elfin’s gr… And every pledge in earth I laid, That erst thy false affection gave… I pressed them down the sod beneat…
I play’d with you 'mid cowslips bl… When I was six and you were four; When garlands weaving, flower-ball… Were pleasures soon to please no m… Through groves and meads, o’er gra…
Accept, bright spirit, reft in lif… This votive wreath to thy untimely… Formed to adorn all scenes, and ch… The fire-side circle, and the cour… Thy friends to gladden, and thy ho…
Instead of sitting wrapped up in f… With rheumatism in every joint, I wish I was in the English Chan… Just going ‘round the Lizard Poin… All southward bound, with the seas…
O’er bush and briar Childe Launce… With ardent hopes elate, And loudly blew the horn that hung Before Sir Hornbook’s gate. The inner portals opened wide,
August, 1842 with a remembrance of August, 1807 I gaze, where August’s sunbeam fa… Along these grey and lonely walls, Till in its light absorbed appears