#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury #Desire #Love
And in Life’s noisiest hour, There whispers still the ceaseless… The heart’s Self-solace and solil… You mould my Hopes, you fashion m… And to the leading Love-throb in…
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…
Myrtle leaf, that ill besped Pinest in the gladsome ray, Soiled beneath the common tread Far from thy protecting spray! When the partridge o’er the sheaf
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…
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…
O! it is pleasant with a heart at… Just after sunset, or by moonlight… To make the shifting clouds be wha… Or let the easily persuaded eyes Own each quaint likeness issuing f…
Ere the birth of my life, if I wi… No question was asked me—it could… If the life was the question, a th… And to live on be YES; what can… NATURE’S ANSWER
If dead, we cease to be ; if total… Swallow up life’s brief flash for… As summer-gusts, of sudden birth a… Whose sound and motion not alone d… But are their whole of being! If…
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all me… Ere we the deep preluding strain h… To the Great Father, only Rightf… Eternal Father! King Omnipotent! To the Will Absolute, the One, t…
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…
From a letter from STC to Wordsw… In stale blank verse a subject sta… I send per post my Nightingale; And like an honest bard, dear Wor… You’ll tell me what you think, my…
Though friendships differ endless… The sorts, methinks, may be reduce… Ac quaintance many, and Con quain… But for In quaintance I know only… The friend I’ve mourned with, and…
Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wer… That Genius plunged thee in that… High Castalie: and (sureties of t… That Pity and Simplicity stood by… And promised for thee that thou sh…
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philom… How many Bards in city garret pen… While at their window they with do… Mark the faint lamp-beam on the ke… And listen to the drowsy cry of W…
