#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
Verse, a breeze mid blossoms stray… Where Hope clung feeding, like a… Both were mine! Life went a—mayin… With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young!
O peace, that on a lilied bank dos… To rest thine head beneath an oliv… I would that from the pinions of t… One quill withouten pain yplucked… For oh! I wish my Sara’s frowns t…
Where graced with many a classic s… Cam rolls his reverend stream alon… I haste to urge the learned toil That sternly chides my love-lorn s… Ah me! too mindful of the days
Thou gentle Look, that didst my s… Why hast thou left me? Still in s… Revisit my sad heart, auspicious… As falls on closing flowers the lu… What time, in sickly mood, at part…
Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. ‘What no one with us shares, seems scarce our own.’ ...
While my young cheek retains its h… And I have many friends who hold… L——! methinks, I would not often… Such melodies as thine, lest I sh… All memory of the wrongs and sore…
Well, they are gone, and here must… This lime—tree bower my prison! I… Beauties and feelings, such as wou… Most sweet to my remembrance even… Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness!…
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…
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…
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,
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,
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…
(Act V, scene i) And this place our forefathers mad… This is the process of our Love a… To each poor brother who offends a… Most innocent, perhaps—and what if…
Thicker than rain-drops on Novemb…
This Sycamore, oft musical with b… Such tents the Patriarchs loved!… May all its agèd boughs o’er—canop… The small round basin, which this… Keeps pure from falling leaves! L…
