#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
High-mindedness, a jealousy for go… A loving-kindness for the great ma… Dwells here and there with people… In noisome alley, and in pathless… And where we think the truth least…
Not Aladdin magian Ever such a work began; Not the wizard of the Dee Ever such a dream could see; Not St. John, in Patmos’ Isle,
This mortal body of a thousand day… Now fills, O Burns, a space in th… Where thou didst dream alone on bu… Happy and thoughtless of thy day o… My pulse is warm with thine old ba…
A thing of beauty is a joy for eve… Its loviliness increases; it will… Pass into nothingness; but still w… A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health,…
Glory and loveliness have pass’d a… For if we wander out in early morn… No wreathed incense do we see upbo… Into the east, to meet the smiling… No crowd of nymphs soft voic’d and…
O Solitude! if I must with thee d… Let it not be among the jumbled he… Of murky buildings; climb with me… Nature’s observatory—whence the de… Its flowery slopes, its river’s cr…
As Hermes once took to his feathe… When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon… So on a Delphic reed, my idle spr… So play’d, so charm’d, so conquer’… The dragon—world of all its hundre…
MINUTES are flying swiftly, and… Nothing unearthly has enticed my b… Into a delphic Labyrinth I would… Catch an unmortal thought to pay t… I owe to the kind Poet who has se…
Of late two dainties were before m… Sweet, holy, pure, sacred and inno… From the ninth sphere to me benign… That Gods might know my own parti… First the soft Bag-pipe mourn’d w…
THINK not of it, sweet one, so;—… Give it not a tear; Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go Any—-anywhere. Do not lool so sad, sweet one,—-
What can I do to drive away Remembrance from my eyes? for they… Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Qu… Touch has a memory. O say, love,… What can I do to kill it and be f…
O Goddess! hear these tuneless nu… By sweet enforcement and remembran… And pardon that thy secrets should… Even into thine own soft-conched e… Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I…
WHERE be ye going, you Devon ma… And what have ye there i’ the bask… Ye tight little fairy, just fresh… Will ye give me some cream if I a… I love your meads, and I love you…
ST. AGNES’ EVE—Ah, bitter chi… The owl, for all his feathers, was… The hare limp’d trembling through… And silent was the flock in woolly… Numb were the Beadsman’s fingers,…
IN a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them,