#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Haydon! forgive me that I cannot… Definitively of these mighty thing… Forgive me, that I have not eagle… That what I want I know not where… And think that I would not be ove…
In thy western halls of gold When thou sittest in thy state, Bards, that erst sublimely told Heroic deeds, and sang of fate, With fervour seize their adamantin…
All gentle folks who owe a grudge To any living thing Open your ears and stay your t[r]u… Whilst I in dudgeon sing. The Gadfly he hath stung me sore—
There was a naughty boy, A naughty boy was he, He would not stop at home, He could not quiet be– He took
In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them
After dark vapors have oppress’d o… For a long dreary season, comes a… Born of the gentle South, and cle… From the sick heavens all unseemly… The anxious month, relieved of its…
Over the hill and over the dale, And over the bourn to Dawlish— Where gingerbread wives have a sca… And gingerbread nuts are smallish. ——————-
Come hither all sweet Maidens sob… Down looking aye, and with a chast… Hid in the fringes of your eyelids… And meekly let your fair hands joi… As if so gentle that ye could not…
In after-time, a sage of mickle lo… Yclep’d Typographus, the Giant to… And did refit his limbs as heretof… And made him read in many a learne… And into many a lively legend look…
Spenser! a jealous honourer of thi… A forester deep in thy midmost tre… Did last eve ask my promise to ref… Some English that might strive th… But Elfin Poet 'tis impossible
I had a dove, and the sweet dove d… And I have thought it died of gri… O what could it grieve for? Its f… With a silken thread of my own han… Sweet little red feet! Why would…
Great spirits now on earth are soj… He of the cloud, the cataract, the… Who on Helvellyn’s summit, wide a… Catches his freshness from Archan… He of the rose, the violet, the sp…
Hast thou from the caves of Golco… Pure as the ice-drop that froze on… Bright as the humming-bird’s green… When it flutters in sun-beams that… Hast thou a goblet for dark sparkl…
Brother belov’d if health shall sm… Upon this wasted form and fever’d… If e’er returning vigour bid these… And languid limbs their gladsome s… Well may thy brow the placid glow…
FAIR ISABEL, poor simple Isab… Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love’s… They could not in the self-same ma… Without some stir of heart, some m… They could not sit at meals but fe…