#EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters #XIXCentury #1878 #ABookOfMiscellaneousLyrics
WHEN Day once stirs, her locks o… Up, seize, ere she is well awaken! And with her steps thy paces hold, Till she from Earth her leave hat… What tho’ upon the way she frown,
“A PHANTOM to me thou appeares… But spite of this seeming I know The magical image thou wearest, Is real as the lilies in blow; As real and as rare as the fairest…
WHEN I would laugh a little at The follies that in Life aboundet… What ails the saint I worship, th… She with a frown my spirit woundet… Is laughter sin? ah, then full wel…
AIR—'Rossen the Beau.’ COME fill up the glass, and tho’… We tasted of gladness before, The thought of this moment for eve… Shall gladden the heart to its cor…
MERRY, lark-like, merry, At the break of day, Polly meeteth Harry Coming down the way; And her lips, they quiver,
DIRECTED by a little star, I paced towards my own loved cot, When rushed a meteor from afar, And I my little guide forgot. Bedazzled was I, and amazed,
O, THE bugle-horn I heard last n… Its wild tones set the echoes flyi… And night long in my soul, Deligh… Danced, danced her gift for dancin… Such tones, I swear a magic bear,
“I JEALOUS? Pooh!—Doth not… Pursue his vessel o’er the billows… No, jealous, no!—From whence thos… —'Tis but the wind among the willo… “Ha, jealous, ha!—Did darling spe…
SHE took the wood thro’ which she… But in the lake near which she wen… An image met, and swayed and swung… And three times with her image ble… The vision from that mirror fled,
AH dearest dear, what do I hear? I’ve hurt thy feelings! have I, d… Then let thy words be fiery swords… To punish me with pangs severest! Than hear thee sigh, I’d rather d…
O, MY Spirit, art thou vanquisht… Is thy latest prospect gone? Must my task be thus relinquisht Ere my noble end is won? Must I die, and be remember’d
LITTLE ANNA young and fair, How with heart a-dancing, I descry her image rare, O’er the footway glancing. Ah, those locks of dusky hue,
SECURE within his citadel, my h… A roystering King, has quaft his… At pleasure’s sparkling fount,—has… Has hugg’d the phantom of delight—… Not dreaming from his sleep he’d e…
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…
I NEVER said my verse you’d moc… Nor how you’d giggled at my gramma… You, on whom Fame her door has lo… I little mark’d your empty clamour… I merely said that when you’d call…