#English #Victorians
Again I see my bliss at hand; The town, the lake are here. My Marguerite smiles upon the str… Unalter’d with the year. I know that graceful figure fair,
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…
Still glides the stream, slow drop… Under the rustling poplars’ shade; Silent the swans beside us float— None speaks, none heeds; ah, turn… Let those arch eyes now softly shi…
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,
Yes, now the longing is o’erpast, Which, dogg’d by fear and fought b… Shook her weak bosom day and night… Consum’d her beauty like a flame, And dimm’d it like the desert blas…
Why, when the World’s great mind Hath finally inclin’d, Why, you say, Critias, be debatin… Why, with these mournful rhymes Learn’d in more languid climes,
SAY, what blinds us, that we clai… Of possessing powers not our share… Since man woke on earth, he knows… But, before we woke on earth, we w… Long, long since, undower’d yet, o…
Long fed on boundless hopes, O ra… How angrily thou spurn’st all simp… “Christ,” some one says, “was huma… No judge eyes us from Heaven, our… We live no more, when we have done…
A YEAR had flown, and o’er the s… In Cornwall, Tristram and queen… In 3 King Marc’s chapel, in Tynt… There in a ship they bore those lo… The young surviving Iseult, one b…
“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…
I must not say that thou wert true… Yet let me say that thou wert fair… And they that lovely face who view… They will not ask if truth be ther… Truth—what is truth? Two bleeding…
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.
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…
'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…
Glion?—Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were… Glion, but not the same! And yet I know not! All unchanged
