#EnglishWriters
Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death—and we are death. II.
I sing the glorious Power with az… Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste… Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid, Revered and mighty; from his awful… Whom Jove brought forth, in warli…
And canst thou mock mine agony, th… In cloudless radiance, Queen of s… Can you, ye flow’rets, spread your… Mid pearly gems of dew that shine… And you wild winds, thus can you s…
Extract from Poetical Essay Millions to fight compell’d, to fi… In mangled heaps on War’s red alt… When the legal murders swell the l… When glory’s views the titled idio…
Once, early in the morning, Beelz… With care his sweet person adornin… He put on his Sunday clothes. II. He drew on a boot to hide his hoof…
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is il… Which severs those it should unite… Let us remain together still, Then it will be good night. How can I call the lone night goo…
I bring fresh showers for the thir… From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves… In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews…
PEOPLE of England, ye who toil… Who reap the harvests which are no… Who weave the clothes which your o… And for your own take the inclemen… Who build warm houses . . .
Unrisen splendour of the brightest… To rise upon our darkness, if the… Now beckoning thee out of thy mist… Could thaw the clouds which wage a… With thy young brightness!
I dreamed that Milton’s spirit ro… From life’s green tree his Urania… And from his touch sweet thunder f… All human things built in contempt… And sanguine thrones and impious a…
Tremble, Kings despised of man! Ye traitors to your Country, Tremble! Your parricidal plan At length shall meet its destiny..… We all are soldiers fit to fight,
Why is it said thou canst not live In a youthful breast and fair, Since thou eternal life canst give… Canst bloom for ever there? Since withering pain no power poss…
Great Spirit whom the sea of boun… Nurtures within its unimagined cav… In which thou sittest sole, as in… Giving a voice to its mysterious w…
As I lay asleep in Italy There came a voice from over the… And with great power it forth led… To walk in the visions of Poesy. I met Murder on the way—
Rarely, rarely comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day
