#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
I enter thy garden of roses, Beloved and fair Haidée, Each morning where Flora reposes, For surely I see her in thee. Oh, Lovely! thus low I implore th…
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…
Posterity will ne’er survey A nobler grave than this: Here lie the bones of Castlereagh… Stop, traveler—
Stranger! behold, interr’d togethe… The souls of learning and of leath… Poor Joe is gone, but left his al… You’ll find his relics in a stall. His works were neat, and often fou…
Dear object of defeated care! Though now of Love and thee beref… To reconcile me with despair, Thing image and any tears are left… 'Tis said with Sorrow Time can co…
In this beloved marble view, Above the works and thoughts of ma… What Nature could, but would not,… And Beauty and Canova can! Beyond imagination’s power,
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea; But before I go, Tom Moore, Here’s a double health to thee! Here’s a sigh to those who love me…
One struggle more, and I am free From pangs that rend my heart in t… One last long sigh to love and the… Then back to busy life again. It suits me well to mingle now
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…
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, talk not to me of a name great… The days of our youth are the days… And the myrtle and ivy of sweet tw… Are worth all your laurels, though… What are garlands and crowns to th…
When the moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the grass, And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the morass; When the falling stars are shootin…
'Tis done! - I saw it in my dream… No more with Hope the future beam… My days of happiness are few: Chill’d by misfortune’s wintry bla… My dawn of life is overcast;
Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep—blue eyes—…
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing… Wafting destruction o’er thy charm… And hurtling o’er thy lovely head, Has fill’d that breast with fond a… Surely some envious demon’s force,
