#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Through life’s dull road, so dim a… I have dragg’d to three-and-thirty… What have these years left to me? Nothing—except thirty-three.
The ‘Origin of Love!’—Ah why That cruel question ask of me, When thou may’st read in many an e… He starts to life on seeing thee? And should’st thou seek his end to…
Hail, Muse! et cetera.—We left J… Pillow’d upon a fair and happy bre… And watch’d by eyes that never yet… And loved by a young heart, too de… To feel the poison through her spi…
There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath’d with mine alone… That Destiny’s relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these ey…
LIV But now I will begin my poem. 'Ti… Perhaps a little strange, if not q… That from the first of Cantos up… I’ve not begun what we have to go…
‘Hic est, quem legis, ille, quern… He unto whom thou art so partial, Oh, reader is the well-known Mart… The Epigrammatist: while living, Give him the fame thou wouldst be…
Here once engaged the stranger’s v… Young Friendship’s record simply… Few were her words; but yet, thoug… Resentment’s hand the line defaced… Deeply she cut—but not erased,
When coldness wraps this suffering… Ah! whither strays the immortal mi… It cannot die, it cannot stay, But leaves its darken’d dust behin… Then, unembodied, doth it trace
There was a time, I need not name… Since it will ne’er forgotten be, When all our feelings were the sam… As still my soul hath been to thee… And from that hour when first thy…
Dear Doctor, I have read your pla… Which is a good one in its way, Purges the eyes and moves the bowe… And drenches handkerchiefs like to… With tears, that, in a flux of gri…
Our life is twofold; Sleep hath i… A boundary between the things misn… Death and existence: Sleep hath i… And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development ha…
My soul is dark - Oh! quickly str… The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmurs o’er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,
And thou art dead, as young and fa… As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so ra… Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth received them in her…
Oh! could Le Sage’s demon’s gift Be realized at my desire, This night my trembling form he’d… To place it on St. Mary’s spire. Then would, unroof’d, old Granta’…
Which, in the Arabic language, is… THE Moorish King rides up and do… Through Granada’s royal town; From Elvira’s gate to those Of Bivarambla on he goes.
