#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
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…
BRIGHT Star, would I were stea… Not in lone splendour hung aloft t… And watching, with eternal lids ap… Like Nature’s patient sleepless E… The moving waters at their priest-…
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…
Give me your patience, sister, whi… Exact in capitals your golden name… Or sue the fair Apollo and he wil… Rouse from his heavy slumber and i… Great love in me for thee and Poe…
Deep in the shady sadness of a val… Far sunken from the healthy breath… Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s… Sat gray-hair’d Saturn, quiet as… Still as the silence round about h…
Who loves to peer up at the mornin… With half-shut eyes and comfortabl… Let him with this sweet tale full… For meadows where the little river… Who loves to linger with that brig…
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arm… Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the la… And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arm…
Four Seasons fill the measure of… There are four seasons in the mind… He has his lusty Spring, when fan… Takes in all beauty with an easy s… He has his Summer, when luxurious…
Where’s the Poet? Show him! show… Muses nine! that I may know him! ‘Tis the man, who with a man Is an equal, be he King, Or poorest of the beggar-clan,
Blue! ‘Tis the life of heaven,—th… Of Cynthia,—the wide palace of th… The tent of Hesperus, and all his… The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray,… Blue! ’Tis the life of waters:—Oc…
Nature withheld Cassandra in the… For more adornment a full thousand… She took their cream of Beauty’s… And shap’d and tinted her above al… Meanwhile Love kept her dearly wi…
This pleasant tale is like a littl… The honied lines so freshly interl… To keep the reader in so sweet a p… So that he here and there full-hea… And oftentimes he feels the dewy d…
No! those days are gone away And their hours are old and gray, And their minutes buried all Under the down-trodden pall Of the leaves of many years:
Thou still unravish’d bride of qui… Thou foster-child of silence and s… Sylvan historian, who canst thus e… A flowery tale more sweetly than o… What leaf-fring’d legend haunts ab…
The day is gone, and all its sweet… Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand… Warm breath, light whisper, tender… Bright eyes, accomplished shape, a… Faded the flower and all its budde…