#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
The cold earth slept below; Above the cold sky shone; And all around, With a chilling sound, From caves of ice and fields of sn…
At the creation of the Earth Pleasure, that divinest birth, From the soil of Heaven did rise, Wrapped in sweet wild melodies— Like an exhalation wreathing
49 Go thou to Rome,—at once the Para… The grave, the city, and the wilde… And where its wrecks like shattere… And flowering weeds, and fragrant…
We are as clouds that veil the mid… How restlessly they speed, and gle… Streaking the darkness radiantly!—… Night closes round, and they are l… Or like forgotten lyres, whose dis…
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; Thy gentle words stir poison there… Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair! Subdued to Duty’s hard control,
I love thee, Baby! for thine own… Those azure eyes, that faintly dim… Thy tender frame, so eloquently we… Love in the sternest heart of hate… But more when o’er thy fitful slum…
O Wild West Wind, thou breath of… Thou, from whose unseen presence t… Are driven, like ghosts from an en… Yellow, and black, and pale, and h… Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O…
A scene, which 'wildered fancy vie… In the soul’s coldest solitude, With that same scene when peaceful… Flings rapture’s colour o’er the g… When mountain, meadow, wood and st…
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditat…
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it… Who dares arrest the wheels of des… And plunge me in the lowest Hell… Will not the lightning’s blast des… Will not steel drink the blood-lif…
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fa… Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill… Shepherd those herds whom tyranny… Verse echoes not one beating of th… History is but the shadow of their…
The awful shadow of some unseen P… Floats though unseen among us; vis… This various world with as inconst… As summer winds that creep from fl… Like moonbeams that behind some pi…
Dark Spirit of the desart rude That o’er this awful solitude, Each tangled and untrodden wood, Each dark and silent glen below, Where sunlight’s gleamings never g…
ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdain’d For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save