#EnglishWriters
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,
The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fa… Upon the straits; on the French c… Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of… Glimmering and vast, out in the tr…
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…
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. What shall be said o’er Wordswort…
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…
A thousand knights have rein’d the… To watch this line of sand-hills r… Along the never-silent Strait, To Calais glittering in the sun; To look tow’rd Ardres’ Golden Fi…
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffu… With rain, where thick the crocus… Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from Saint Laurent… The bridge is cross’d, and slow we…
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
We, O Nature, depart, Thou survivest us! this, This, I know, is the law. Yes! but more than this, Thou who seest us die
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;
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is… And ease from shame, and rest from… There’s nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid brow… But is a calm like this, in truth,
Hark! ah, the nightingale— The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what… What triumph! hark!—what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore,
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…
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the for… The luster of the eye? Is it for beauty to forego her wre… —Yes, but not this alone.
The thoughts that rain their stead… Like stars on life’s cold sea, Which others know, or say they kno… They never shone for me. Thoughts light, like gleams, my sp…
