#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #Epigram
Honey from silkworms who can gathe… Or silk from the yellow bee? The grass may grow in winter weath… As soon as hate in me. II.
From The Italian Of Dante Ye who intelligent the Third Heav… Hear the discourse which is within… Which cannot be declared, it seems… The Heaven whose course follows y…
’Twas dead of the night when I sa… One glimmering lamp was expiring a… Around the dark tide of the tempes… Along the wild mountains night-rav… They bodingly presaged destruction…
The sun is set; the swallows are a… The bats are flitting fast in the… The slow soft toads out of damp co… And evening’s breath, wandering he… Over the quivering surface of the…
Ah! faint are her limbs, and her f… Yet far must the desolate wanderer… Though the tempest is stern, and t… She must quit at deep midnight her… I see her swift foot dash the dew…
Earth, ocean, air, belovèd brother… If our great Mother has imbued my… With aught of natural piety to fee… Your love, and recompense the boon… If dewy morn, and odorous noon, an…
‘Here lieth One whose name was wr… But, ere the breath that could era… Death, in remorse for that fell sl… Death, the immortalizing winter, f… Athwart the stream,—and time’s pri…
Another Version Of 'A Bridal So… Night, with all thine eyes look do… Darkness shed its holiest dew! When ever smiled the inconstant mo… On a pair so true?
Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of… Who denies verse to Gallus? So, w… Glidest beneath the green and purp… Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou f…
I faint, I perish with my love! I… Frail as a cloud whose [splendours… Under the evening’s ever-changing… I die like mist upon the gale, And like a wave under the calm I…
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…
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! I know the secrets of the air, And things are lost in the glare o… Which I can make the sleeping see…
Mine eyes were dim with tears unsh… Yes, I was firm—thus wert not tho… My baffled looks did fear yet drea… To meet thy looks—I could not kno… How anxiously they sought to shine
My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth… Upon the silver waves of thy sweet… And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it,
My head is heavy, my limbs are wea… And it is not life that makes me m…