#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury #Desire #Love
'With Donne, whose muse on dromed… Wreathe iron pokers into true-love… Rhyme’s sturdy cripple, fancy’s ma… Wit’s forge and fire-blast, meanin…
Sandoval. You loved the daughter… Earl Henry. Loved? Sandoval. Did you not say you woo… Earl Henry. Once I loved Her whom I dared not woo!
First Voice ‘But tell me, tell me… Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so f… What is the ocean doing?’ Second Voice ‘Still as a slave be…
Whom the untaught Shepherds call Pixies in their madrigal, Fancy’s children, here we dwell: Welcome, Ladies! to our cell. Here the wren of softest note
When youth his fairy reign began, Ere sorrow had proclaimed me man; While peace the present hour begui… And all the lovely prospect smiled… Then, Mary! 'mid my lightsome gle…
Whom should I choose for my Judge… Who, in the work, forgets me and t… Ye who have eyes to detect, and G… Have you the heart, too, that love… What is the meed of thy Song? 'Ti…
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek r… Thus on mine arm, most soothing sw… To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o’… With white—flowered Jasmin, and t… (Meet emblems they of Innocence a…
Song (Act II, Scene I, lines 65-80) A sunny shaft did I behold, From sky to earth it slanted: And poised therein a bird so bold—
No more ‘twixt conscience staggeri… Soon shall I now before my God ap… By him to be acquitted, as I hope… By him to be condemned, as I fear… REFLECTION ON THE ABOVE
Beneath the blaze of a tropical su… Frost, through the absence of obje… with us shares, seems scarce our o… The best belov’d, who loveth me th… is for the heart, what the support…
Richer than misers o’er their coun… Nobler than kings, or king-pollute… Here dwelt the man of Ross! O tra… Departed merit claims a reverent t… If 'neath this roof thy wine-cheer…
The poet in his lone yet genial ho… Gives to his eyes a magnifying pow… Or rather he emancipates his eyes From the black shapeless accidents… In unctuous cones of kindling coal…
What is an Epigram? A dwarfish wh… Its body brevity, and wit its soul…
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees ; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose,
To meet, to know, to love—and then… Is the sad tale of many a human he…
