#EnglishWriters #Romantic
ÃGLE, beauty and poet, has two l… She makes her own face, and does n…
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…
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…
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’…
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…
Dear Doctor, I have read your pla… Which is a good one in its way, Purges the eyes, and moves the bow… And drenches handkerchiefs like to… With tears that, in a flux of grie…
Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of… Bright as thy mother’s in their hu… Those rosy lips, whose dimples pla… And smile to steal the heart away, Recall a scene of former joy,
'O’er the glad waters of the dark… Our thoughts as boundless, and our… Far as the breeze can bear, the bi… Survey our empire, and behold our… These are our realms, no limits to…
Well! thou art happy, and I feel That I should thus be happy too; For still my heart regards thy wea… Warmly, as it was wont to do. Thy husband’s blest—and 'twill imp…
Since the refinement of this polis… Has swept irnmortal raillery from… Since taste has now expunged licen… Which stamp’d disgrace on all an a… Since now to please with purer sce…
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were… And health and youth possess’d me; My goblets blush’d from every vine… And lovely forms caress’d me; I sunn’d my heart in beauty’s eyes…
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—…
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…
Written Under The Impression Tha… Adieu, thou Hill! where early joy Spread roses o’er my brow; Where Science seeks each loiterin… With knowledge to endow.
