#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
If, for silver or for gold, You could melt ten thousand pimple… Into half a dozen dimples, Then your face we might behold, Looking, doubtless, much more snug…
Born in the garret, in the kitchen… Promoted thence to deck her mistre… Next for some gracious service une… And from its wages only to be gues… Raised from the toilette to the ta…
Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despi… What was thy pity’s recompense?
No breath of air to break the wave That rolls below the Athenian’s g… That tomb which, gleaming o’er the… First greets the homeward-veering… High o’er the land he saved in vai…
I saw thee weep—the big bright tea… Came o’er that eye of blue; And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew: I saw thee smile—the sapphire’s bl…
Few years have pass’d since thou a… Were firmest friends, at least in… And childhood’s gay sincerity Preserved our feelings long the sa… But now, like me, too well thou kn…
CLXXVIII. There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society where none intrud… By the deep Sea, and music in its…
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…
If that high world, which lies bey… Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherish’d heart be fo… The eye the same, except in tears… How welcome those untrodden sphere…
Without a stone to mark the spot, And say, what Truth might well ha… By all, save one, perchance forgot… Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea
Bright be the place of thy soul! No lovelier spirit than thine E’er burst from its mortal control In the orbs of the blessed to shin… On earth thou wert all but divine,
When Dryden’s fool, ‘unknowing wh… His hours in whistling spent, ‘for… This guiltless oaf his vacancy of… Supplied, and amply too, by innoce… Did modern swains, possess’d of C…
To hook the reader, you, John Mur… Have publish’d 'Anjou’s Margaret, Which won’t be sold off in a hurry (At least, it has not been as yet)… And then, still further to bewilde…
Away, away, ye notes of woe! Be silent, thou once soothing stra… Or I must flee from hence—for, oh… I dare not trust those sounds agai… To me they speak of brighter days
‘There is a tide in the affairs of… Which,—taken at the flood,’—you kn… And most of us have found it now a… At least we think so, though but f… The moment, till too late to come…
