#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
When I would image her features, Comes up a shrouded head: I touch the outlines, shrinking; She seems of the wandering dead. But when love asks for nothing,
A dove flew with an Olive Branch; It crossed the sea and reached the… And on a ship about to launch Dropped down the happy sign it bor… ‘An omen’ rang the glad acclaim!
See’st thou a Skylark whose glist… Quiver like pulses beneath the mel… Deep in the heart—yearning distanc… Wisdom and beauty and love are the…
He found her by the ocean’s moanin… Nor any wicked change in her disce… And she believed his old love had… Which was her exultation, and her… She took his hand, and walked with…
Sharp is the night, but stars with… Leap off the rim of earth across t… It is a night to make the heavens… More than the nest whereto apace w… Lengths down our road each fir—tre…
Madam would speak with me. So, no… The Deluge or else Fire! She’s w… My husbandship. Our chain on sile… Time leers between, above his twid… Am I quite well? Most excellent i…
The varied colours are a fitful he… They pass in constant service thou… The self gone out of them, therewi… Read that, who still to spell our…
A Princess in the eastern tale Paced thro’ a marble city pale, And saw in ghastly shapes of stone The sculptured life she breathed a… Saw, where’er her eye might range,
Take thy lute and sing By the ruined castle walls, Where the torrent-foam falls, And long weeds wave: Take thy lute and sing,
What are we first? First, animals… Intelligences at a leap; on whom Pale lies the distant shadow of th… And all that draweth on the tomb f… Into which state comes Love, the…
Of men he would have raised to lig… In soul he conquered with those ne… His country’s pride and her abasem… The Man of England circled by the…
[Iliad, B. XIV. V. 283] They then to fountain-abundant Id… Came, and they first left ocean to… Where underneath of their feet wav… There hung Hypnos fast, ere the v…
Sword of Common Sense! - Our surest gift: the sacred chain Of man to man: firm earth for trus… In structures vowed to permanence:… Thou guardian issue of the harvest…
What say you, critic, now you have… An author and maternal?—in this tr… (To quote you) of poor hollow folk… On instruments as like as drum to… You snarled tut-tut for welcome to…
