#English #Victorians
“Miserere, Domine! The words are utter’d, and they flee. Deep is their penitential moan, Mighty their pathos, but ’tis gone. They have declared the spirit’s sore Sore load, and words ca...
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; a… The sunshine in the happy glens is… And by the sea, and in the brakes.
Light flows our war of mocking wor… Behold, with tears mine eyes are w… I feel a nameless sadness o’er me… Yes, yes, we know that we can jest… We know, we know that we can smile…
What mortal, when he saw, Life’s voyage done, his heavenly… Could ever yet dare tell him fearl… ‘I have kept uninfring’d my nature… The inly-written chart thou gavest…
Yes: in the sea of life enisl’d, With echoing straits between us th… Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone. The islands feel the enclasping fl…
TRISTRAM IS she not come? The messenger wa… Prop me upon the pillows once agai… Raise me, my Page: this cannot lo… Christ! what a night! how the slee…
LAUGH, 1 my Friends, and withou… Lightly quit what lightly came: Rich to-morrow as to-day Spend as madly as you may. I, with little land to stir,
Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too! Her mirth the world required;
I too have suffer’d: yet I know She is not cold, though she seems… She is not cold, she is not light; But our ignoble souls lack might. She smiles and smiles, and will no…
JOY comes and goes: hope ebbs and… Like the wave. Change doth unknit the tranquil st… Love lends life a little grace, A few sad smiles: and then,
Foil’d by our fellow-men, depress’… We leave the brutal world to take… And, Patience! in another life, w… The world shall be thrust down, an… And will not, then, the immortal a…
WHO taught this pleading to unpra… Who hid such import in an infant’s… Who lent thee, child, this meditat… What clouds thy forehead, and fore… Lo! sails that gleam a moment and…
Was it a dream? We sail’d, I thou… Martin and I, down the green Alpi… Border’d, each bank, with pines; t… On the wet umbrage of their glossy… On the red pinings of their forest…
In the deserted, moon-blanched str… How lonely rings the echo of my fe… Those windows, which I gaze at, f… Silent and white, unopening down, Repellent as the world,—but see,
'Twas August, and the fierce sun… Smote on the squalid streets of B… And the pale weaver through his wi… In Spitalfields, looking thrice d… I met a preacher there I knew, an…