#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
“So say the foolish!” Say the foo… “Flower she is, my rose”—or else,… Or perhaps, “Yon maid-moon, bless… That art thou!”—to them, belike: n… “Hush, rose, blush! no balm like b…
Had I but plenty of money, money… The house for me, no doubt, were a… Ah, such a life, such a life, as o… Something to see, by Bacchus, som… There, the whole day long, one’s l…
If you and I could change to beas… Shall you and I play Jove for onc… Shy wild sweet stealer of the grap… And thus you think to spite your f… So, all men shrink and shun me! D…
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his K… Bidding the crop-headed Parliamen… And, pressing a troop unable to st… And see the rogues flourish and ho… Marched them along, fifty score st…
All that I know Of a certain star, Is, it can throw (Like the angled spar) Now a dart of red,
Dear, had the world in its caprice Deigned to proclaim ‘I know you b… ’Have recognized your plighted tro… Am sponsor for you: live in peace!… How many precious months and years
Verse-making was least of my virtu… Wealth that never yet was but migh… If the life would but lengthen to… So I said, “To do little is bad,… And made verse.
Now that I, tying thy glass mask… May gaze thro’ these faint smokes… As thou pliest thy trade in this d… Which is the poison to poison her,… He is with her, and they know that…
TRUTH is within ourselves; it ta… From outward things, whate’er you… There is an inmost centre in us al… Where truth abides in fullness; an… Wall upon wall, the gross flesh he…
You know, we French stormed Ratis… A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy ho…
Morning, evening, noon and night, 'Praise God!; sang Theocrite. Then to his poor trade he turned, Whereby the daily meal was earned. Hard he laboured, long and well;
Stop rowing! This one of our bye-… O’er a certain bridge you have to… That’s named, “Of the Angel:” lis… The name “Of the Devil” too much… Venetian acquaintance, so—his the…
(_Prologue to ‘The Two Poets of… Such a starved bank of moss Till, that May-morn, Blue ran the flash across: Violets were born!
So, the three Court-ladies began Their trial of who judged best In esteeming the love of a man: Who preferred with most reason was… Boy-Cupid’s exemplary catcher and…
Take the cloak from his face, and… Let the corpse do its worst! How he lies in his rights of a man… Death has done all death can. And, absorbed in the new life he l…