#Aphorism #Imagery #Metaphor
HEAR then the pride and knowledg… His sprit sail, fore sail, main sa… A poor frail man—God wot! I know… I know no greater sinner than Joh…
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
I LOVE the jocund dance, The softly breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, And where lisps the maiden’s tongu… I love the laughing vale,
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies
Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in… Long John Brown had the Devil in… Long John Brown lov’d little Mar… And the Fairy drew the Devil into… Her Fairy skipp’d out and her Fai…
I dreamt a dream! What can it me… And that I was a maiden Queen Guarded by an Angel mild: Witless woe was ne’er beguiled! And I wept both night and day,
`I die, I die!' the Mother said, `My children die for lack of bread… What more has the merciless tyrant… The Monk sat down on the stony be… The blood red ran from the Grey M…
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of… Bring forth the lots, cast in the… Th’ Angel of Fate turns them with… And casts them out upon the darken… Prepare, prepare!
JUSTICE hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion’s breast; for Albion’s sins are crimson dy’d, and the red scourge follows her desolate sons. Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise...
‘Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to thought A greater than itself to know. ’And, father, how can I love you
My mother groan’d! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my father’s hands,
All the night in woe Lyca’s parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone,
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush,
When my mother died I was very yo… And my father sold me while yet my… Could scarcely cry “ ‘weep! ’weep!… So your chimneys I sweep & in soo… There’s little Tom Dacre, who cri…
O, I say, you Joe, Throw us the ball! I’ve a good mind to go And leave you all. I never saw such a bowler