#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
With Donne, whose muse on dromeda… Wreathe iron pokers into true—love… Rhyme’s sturdy cripple, fancy’s ma… Wit’s forge and fire—blast, meanin…
A Conversation Poem, April, 1798 No cloud, no relique of the sunken… Distinguishes the West, no long t… Of sullen light, no obscure trembl… Come, we will rest on this old mos…
With many a pause and oft reverted… I climb the Coomb’s ascent: sweet… Warble in shade their wild-wood me… Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soot… Up scour the startling stragglers…
Underneath an old oak tree There was of swine a huge company That grunted as they crunched the… For that was ripe, and fell full f… Then they trotted away, for the wi…
The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew…
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, God grant me grace my prayers to s… O God! preserve my mother dear In strength and health for many a… And, O! preserve my father too,
He too has flitted from his secret… Hope’s last and dearest child with… Has flitted from me, like the warm… That makes false promise of a plac… To the tired Pilgrim’s still beli…
Now as Heaven is my Lot, they’re… Wherever they can come With clankum and blankum 'Tis all Botheration, & Hell… With fun, jeering
Thus far my scanty brain hath buil… Elaborate and swelling; Â yet the… Not owns it. From thy spirit-brea… I ask not now, my friend! the aidi… Tedious to thee, and from thy anxi…
Once more, sweet stream! with slow… I bless thy milky waters cold and… Escaped the flashing of the noonti… With one fresh garland of Pierian… (Ere from thy zephyr-haunted brink…
Poor little Foal of an oppressed… I love the languid patience of thy… And oft with gentle hand I give t… And clap thy ragged coat, and pat… But what thy dulled spirits hath d…
From his brimstone bed at break of… A walking the DEVIL is gone, To visit his little snug farm of t… And see how his stock went on. Over the hill and over the dale,
Come hither, gently rowing, Come, bear me quickly o’er This stream so brightly flowing To yonder woodland shore. But vain were my endeavour
Low was our pretty Cot: our talle… Peep’d at the chamber-window. We… At silent noon, and eve, and early… The Sea’s faint murmur. In the op… Our Myrtles blossom’d; and across…
