#EnglishWriters
“O monstrous, dead, unprofitable w… That thou canst hear, and hearing,… A voice oracular hath peal’d to-da… To-day a hero’s banner is unfurl’d… Hast thou no lip for welcome?”—So…
The evening comes, the fields are… The tinkle of the thirsty rill, Unheard all day, ascends again; Deserted is the half-mown plain, Silent the swaths! the ringing wai…
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…
In * the cedar shadow sleeping, Where cool grass and fragrant gloo… Oft at noon have lur’d me, creepin… From your darken’d palace rooms: I, who in your train at morning…
Because thou hast believ’d, the wh… Stand never idle, but go always ro… Not by their hands, who vex the pa… Mov’d only; but by genius, in the… Of all its chafing torrents after…
If, in the silent mind of One all… At first imagin’d lay The sacred world; and by processio… From those still deeps, in form an… Seasons alternating, and night and…
In this fair stranger’s eyes of gr… Thine eyes, my love, I see. I shudder: for the passing day Had borne me far from thee. This is the curse of life! that no…
To die be given us, or attain! Fierce work it were, to do again. So pilgrims, bound for Mecca, pra… At burning noon: so warriors said, Scarf’d with the cross, who watch’…
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Gree… Long since, saw Byron’s struggle… But one such death remain’d to com… The last poetic voice is dumb— We stand to-day by Wordsworth’s t…
A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of Tim… Brimming with wonder and joy He spreads out his arms to the lig…
GOD knows it, I am with you. If… Those virtues, priz’d and practis’… But priz’d, but lov’d, but eminent… Man’s fundamental life: if to desp… The barren optimistic sophistries
We, O Nature, depart, Thou survivest us! this, This, I know, is the law. Yes! but more than this, Thou who seest us die
Hark! ah, the nightingale— The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what… What triumph! hark!—what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore,
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,
Weary of myself, and sick of askin… What I am, and what I ought to be… At this vessel’s prow I stand, wh… Forwards, forwards, o’er the starl… And a look of passionate desire
