#EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters #XIXCentury #1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics
‘I HATE outlandish things, and o… I’ve little liking for the sonnet; ’Tis for a lazy Muse, and one Who hath a bumler in her bonnet. ‘Tis a humdrum song, and tho’ not…
‘You naughty Bee!’ the Red Rose… ‘To come at noon by Envy driven, And wound the bloom whose beauty m… The Sun to linger in the heaven! ’I little dream’d, while I did gr…
I THANK my God I ever lived to… When the spirit’s immortality to m… Not by a logic might be made some… But by a flash of inner light too… Long, long can death, be death ind…
WOULD I could waken numbers, br… Than is the lark’s song in the clo… Then would I tell you in befittin… How much the Seer is worthy of yo… Shy, sensitive is he, and far from…
CRIED Ciss to the breeze, as un… She lay at her ease, one day, ‘From thy rovings cease, and a mai… Of thy doings breeze now say! ’Be it so,' sang he; 'from the wes…
YOU turn up your nose at me? I suppose, I’m noisome and base? Before on my head you cruelly trea… Give ear to my case. A lily-bell rare, my charms were l…
MY wee, wee fawn, you see me yawn… Well, I’m not much disposed to fl… And were I so, you rogue! you kno… You’re proof against the fiercest… You have an ear? of stone, my dear…
WHEN first the maiden fair I eye… —This world is a world of grief al… A lily she held and a rose beside But I was doomed her lot to moan. The rose was gain’s and the lily w…
THE bitter wind blows o’er the de… —The bloom from the blossom foreve… And I must trudge on thro’ the sl… And sweet to my heart were the lot… Upon my shrunk bosom sleep seizeth…
MUST all the passion which I’ve… So long to hide be paid with scorn… And must a bosom framed for love, Be doomed a hopeless love to mourn… And must thou still its homage spu…
AS ever a bard in such pitiful pl… Was ever such seen by yon stars in… A-pit or a-bed, by day and by nigh… I’m plagued by the magic of two ha… A leaf in a whirlwind, I’m sent t…
WHAT is man? The question flow… From the lips with ease, and yet He who best could answer knoweth Answer true were hard to get: Not the Sphinx in Egypt olden,
LITTLE Anna, cruel elf, Spite of all my reason, She, she puts me from myself, In and out of season; Ah, the imp! ah, the shrimp!
I READ in an old book the myth Of the Hellenian damsel with The magic needle, when there fell On me a power—a mystic spell— I could not well to others tell.
I’m the spirit Emmalina thy guard… Drawn hither by a subtle law but f… The golden cord of sympathy I lea… Thy aching brows with lilies to en… I have watched thee late and early…