#English #Romanticism
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!…
Ye Clouds! that far above me floa… Whose pathless march no mortal may… Ye Ocean—Waves! that, wheresoe’er… Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods! that listen to the nigh…
Now as Heaven is my Lot, they’re… Wherever they can come With clankum and blankum 'Tis all Botheration, & Hell… With fun, jeering
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…
Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fa… Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to heaven conveyed… And bade it blossom there.
Mark this holy chapel well! The birth-place, this, of William… Here, where stands God’s altar dr… Stood his parent’s marriage-bed. II.
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,
This is now—this was erst, Proposition the first—and Problem… On a given finite Line Which must no way incline; To describe an equi—
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…
When faint and sad o’er sorrow’s d… Slow journeys onward poor misfortu… When fades each lovely form by fan… And inly pines the self-consuming… (No scourge of scorpions in thy ri…
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
Oft, oft, methinks, the while with… I breathe, as from the heart, thy… And dedicated bame, I hear A promise and a mystery, A pledge of more than passing life…
O thou wild fancy, check thy wing!… Those thin white flakes, those pur… Nor there with happy spirits speed… Bathed in rich amber-glowing flood… Nor in yon gleam, where slow desce…
It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long grey beard and glitte… Now wherefore stopp’st thou me? The Bridegroom’s doors are opened…
All thoughts, all passions, all de… Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I