#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
If from great nature’s or our own… Of thought we could but snatch a c… Perhaps mankind might find the pat… But then 'twould spoil much good p… One system eats another up, and th…
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…
‘Tis time the heart should be unmo… Since others it hath ceased to mov… Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf;
The roses of Love glad the garden… Though nurtur’d 'mid weeds droppin… Till Time crops the leaves with u… Or prunes them for ever, in Love’… In vain, with endearments, we soot…
I would to heaven that I were so… As I am blood, bone, marrow, pass… Because at least the past were pas… And for the future - (but I write… Having got drunk exceedingly today…
She walks in beauty, like the nigh… Of cloudless climes and starry ski… And all that’s best of dark and br… Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow’d to that tender light
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’…
Long years!—It tries the thrillin… And eagle-spirit of a child of So… Long years of outrage, calumny, an… Imputed madness, prison’d solitude… And the mind’s canker in its savag…
Time was, ere yet in these degener… Ignoble themes obtain’d mistaken p… When sense and wit with poesy alli… No fabl’d graces, flourish’d side… From the same fount their inspirat…
How sweetly shines through azure s… The lamp of heaven on Lora’s shor… Where Alva’s hoary turrets rise, And hear the din of arms no more! But often has yon rolling moon
Oh! snatched away in beauty’s bloo… On thee shall press no ponderous t… But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of ' th… And the wild cypress wave in tende…
When Thurlow this damn’d nonsense… (I hope I am not violent), Nor men nor gods knew what he mean… And since not even our Rogers’ pr… To common sense his thoughts could…
The braziers, it seems, are prepar… An address, and present it themsel… A superfluous pageant-for, by the… They’ll find where they’re going m…
In moments to delight devoted, ‘My life!’ with tenderest tone you… Dear words! on which my heart had… If youth could neither fade nor di… To death even hours like these mus…
Bob Southey! You’re a poet—Poet-… And representative of all the race… Although 'tis true that you turn’d… Last—yours has lately been a commo… And now, my Epic Renegade! what a…
