#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
Near the lone pile with ivy oversp… Fast by the rivulet’s sleep-persua… Where 'sleeps the moonlight’ on yo… O humbly press that consecrated gr… For there does Edmund rest, the l…
Spirit who sweepest the wild harp… It is most hard, with an untrouble… Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear… Yet, mine eye fixed on Heaven’s u… Long had I listened, free from mo…
Ah cease thy tears and sobs, my li… I did but snatch away the unclaspe… Some safer toy will soon arrest th… And to quick laughter change this… Poor stumbler on the rocky coast o…
Beneath yon birch with silver bark… And boughs so pendulous and fair, The brook falls scatter’d down the… And all is mossy there! And there upon the moss she sits,
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…
Oh! not by Cam or Isis, famous st… In arched groves, the youthful poe… Nor while half-listening, mid deli… To harp and song from lady’s hand… Nor yet while gazing in sublimer m…
The Moon, how definite its orb! Yet gaze again, and with a steady… 'Tis there indeed,—but where is it… It is suffused o’er all the sapphi… Trees, herbage, snake—like stream,…
Tell me, on what holy ground May domestic peace be found? Halcyon daughter of the skies, Far on fearful wing she flies, From the pomp of scepter’d state,
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
Sweet flower! that peeping from th… Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange… This dark, frieze—coated, hoarse,… Hath borrowed Zephyr’s voice, and… With blue voluptuous eye) alas poo…
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…
Come, come thou bleak December wi… And blow the dry leaves from the t… Flash, like a Love—thought, thro’… And take a Life that wearies me.
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,
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blam… And smiles with anxious looks, his… Masking his birth-name, wont to ch… His wild-wood fancy and impetuous…
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…
