#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
A CHANGE hath come over young… The yellow-hair’d lass of the Den… Erewhile she look’s cosy and canny… But now—now, what aileth the queen… Erewhile she’d the bearing which b…
Now Gladstone’s party bears the b… And now Disraeli’s—now The people really cannot tell, For whom their hands to show. Now this way, la, now that incline…
COME sing me the song that once… And the heart unsubdued till that… That with its red rose caused the… That long year after year without… With thy hand on my hand, and thy…
HER harp she takes, from string t… Her little snowy fingers, glancing… Into Night’s ear a wild spell fli… And all the while my heart is danc… Why thus, fond heart, thus dancest…
FLY not away, wee birdie, pray! No weasels we, no evil-bringers, Would make thee bear the pangs tha… Too oft the hearts of sweetest sin… Long may thy nest with eggs be ble…
WILTED is the leaf, and blown By the cold wind up and down, That beheld thy promise fair, Maiden with the dark brown hair! Shatter’d is this heart, and hurl’…
WHAT is man? The question flow… From the lips with ease, and yet He who best could answer knoweth Answer true were hard to get: Not the Sphinx in Egypt olden,
WHAT is Man? The question flo… From the lips with ease, and yet He who best can answer knoweth, Answer true were hard to get. Not the Sphinx in Egypt olden
TO-NIGHT a gilded moth took win… And round-a-round yon wax-light fl… And, while his flight did her enri… He nearer to the dazzler drew. ‘So fair art thou,’ he cried, 'to…
A CLOUD the valley domes, and d… Yon erewhile sun-lit mountain stea… And bit by bit, with one black fro… The green and gold below concealed… Down, down it comes, and pain me n…
SECURE within his citadel, my h… A roystering King, has quaft his… At pleasure’s sparkling fount,—has… Has hugg’d the phantom of delight—… Not dreaming from his sleep he’d e…
I HAD a merry bird Who sung a merry song, And take it on my word, The day it was not long In presence of my bird with its me…
THE bitter wind blows o’er the de… —The bloom from the blossom foreve… And I must trudge on thro’ the sl… And sweet to my heart were the lot… Upon my shrunk bosom sleep seizeth…
Misfortune is a darling, ever Most faithful to the minstrel race… Let low-bred wretches shun them, n… Yet acted she a part so base. True, oft by her the bard discover…
THE wind comes from the west to-n… So sweetly down the lane he blowet… Upon my lips, with pure delight, From head to foot my body gloweth. Where did the wind, the magic find