#EnglishWriters #XIXCentury
Some sigh for this and that, My wishes don’t go far; The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar. Some fret themselves to death
Far above the hollow Tempest, and its moan, Singeth bright Apollo In his golden zone,— Cloud doth never shade him,
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my ol… That once, in rage, with the wild… Thou darest menace my unit of a li… Sending my clay below, my soul abo… Whilst roar’d thy waves, like lion…
Oh, when I was a tiny boy, My days and nights were full of jo… My mates were blithe and kind!— No wonder that I sometimes sigh, And dash the tear-drop from my eye…
The curse of Adam, the old curse… Though I inherit in this feverish… Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and… And fruitless thought, in Care’s… Yet more sweet honey than of bitte…
Young ardent soul, graced with fai… Spring warmth of heart, and ferven… And still a large late love of all… Spite of the world’s cold practice… For all these gifts, I know not,…
Come, let us set our careful breas… Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief, That makes her accents so forlorn; The world has many cruel points,
Alas! That breathing Vanity shoul… Where Pride is buried,—like its v… Uprisen from the naked bones below… In novel flesh, clad in the silent… Of gaudy silk that flutters to and…
—Methought I saw Life swiftly treading over endless… And, at her foot-print, but a bygo… The ocean-past, which, with increa… Swallow’d her steps like a pursuin…
Ruth She stood breast-high amid the cor… Clasp’d by the golden light of mor… Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
Farewell, Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim; Thronging shadows cloud the light, Like the advent of the night,— Colder, colder, colder still,
It was not in the Winter Our loving lot was cast; It was the Time of Roses,— We plucked them as we passed! That churlish season never frown’d
The Autumn is old, The sere leaves are flying;— He hath gather’d up gold, And now he is dying;— Old Age, begin sighing!
O saw ye not fair Ines? She 's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest: She took our daylight with her,
Welcome, dear Heart, and a most k… The day is gloomy, but our looks s… Flowers I have none to give thee,… Their sweetness in a verse to spea… Here are red roses, gather’d at th…
