#EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters #XIXCentury #1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics
I LISTEN to the accents of the… And tho’ aweary of the darts at me… Allying goes life’s shuttle and af… A renovated soul I seek to renova… As the spring is to tire brooklet…
MEG MILLER skipt over to Hort… And sang as she went like the lark… ‘A pair of bright eyes hath Tim M… Yet not his the blink of Kit Clar… ’Bob Harkas hath hair crisp and c…
I SAW but once that lovely one, Nor need I see her twice to love; She broke upon me like the dawn, And o’er my soul her magic wove— Yea, forced the lion stern to own
‘YOU little like the sonnet? Yo… But what are you? a creaking wicke… A cricket in the grass, allow Me, slut! to say a very cricket!— ’A chatter-box, or at the best’—
I HAD a vision of the dear depar… The while stone-dead to outer thin… And “Go,” she said—"and tell the… What now my will shall to thy mind… “I’ve passed the portals I so oft…
“GET UP!” the caller calls, “Ge… And in the dead of night, To win the bairns their bite and s… I rise a weary wight. My flannel dudden donn’d, thrice o…
FROM all that I have seen or hea… This world, is but an empty show, And only can the heart afford What tends to bitter strife and wo… Nay in its clutch, do what we will…
Too lovely art thou to behold, And not to be stung by desire, To bathe in those ringlets of gold… To bathe in those glances of fire. Too lovely art thou to the ken,
OUR revels now are ended, so good… And each unto our chamber let us h… And there lose ourselves in vision… Again has bid adieu unto the sky. So good-bye
AH, deem not when thy minstrel tu… His harp to hours and glories vani… His star of stars, his moon of moo… Can ever from his heart be banish’… Each tune he wakes, each note that…
THE hopes that allured me To cope with the worst, At length have secured me The tortures accurst, Of fever and grief,
ANNIE LEE is fair and sweet, Fair and sweet to look upon; But Annie’s heart is all deceit, Therefore Annie Lee, begone! Sweeter than a golden bell
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…
THE sun is in the western sky And thro’ the barley, she— Comes she, the apple of my eye, The rose-cheeked Rosa Rea. Away I slink the maid to meet,
MY love at Seaton Terrace dwells… A hale and hearty wight, Who lilts away the summer day, Also the winter night: The merriest bird with rapture sti…