#EnglishWriters
A street there is in Paris famous… For which no rhyme our language yi… Rue Neuve de petits Champs its na… The New Street of the Little Fie… And there’s an inn, not rich and s…
Beside the old hall-fire’upon my… Of happy fairy days’what tales w… I thought the world was once’all… And my heart would beat to hear’… And many a quiet night,'in slumb…
When the moonlight’s on the mounta… And the gloom is on the glen, At the cross beside the fountain There is one will meet thee then. At the cross beside the fountain;
For the sole edification Of this decent congregation, Goodly people, by your grant I will sing a holy chant— I will sing a holy chant.
Come to the greenwood tree, Come where the dark woods be, Dearest, O come with me! Let us rove—O my love—O my love! Come—'tis the moonlight hour,
There lived a sage in days of yore… And he a handsome pigtail wore; But wondered much and sorrowed mor… Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case,
The rose upon my balcony the morni… Was leafless all the winter time a… You ask me why her breath is sweet… It is because the sun is out and b… The nightingale, whose melody is t…
Winter and summer, night and morn, I languish at this table dark; My office window has a corn– er looks into St. James’s Park. I hear the foot-guards’ bugle-horn…
Aux gens atrabilaires Pour exemple donne, En un temps de miseres Roger-Bontemps est ne. Vivre obscur a sa guise,
My name is Pleaceman X; Last night I was in bed, A dream did me perplex, Which came into my Edd. I dreamed I sor three Waits
Returning from the cruel fight How pale and faint appears my knig… He sees me anxious at his side; ‘Why seek, my love, your wounds to… Or deem your English girl afraid
The Pope he is a happy man, His Palace is the Vatican, And there he sits and drains his c… The Pope he is a happy man. I often say when I’m at home,
On deck, beneath the awning, I dozing lay and yawning; It was the gray of dawning, Ere yet the sun arose; And above the funnel’s roaring,
When moonlike ore the hazure seas In soft effulgence swells, When silver jews and balmy breaze Bend down the Lily’s bells; When calm and deap, the rosy sleep
The cold gray hills they bind me a… The darksome valleys lie sleeping… But the winds as they pass o’er al… Bring me never a sound of woe! Oh! for all I have suffered and s…