#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Ever as now with Love and Virtue’… May thy unwithering soul not cease… Still may thine heart with those p… Which force from mine such quick a…
O that a chariot of cloud were min… Of cloud which the wild tempest we… When the moon over the ocean’s lin… Is spreading the locks of her brig… O that a chariot of cloud were min…
In the cave which wild weeds cover Wait for thine aethereal lover; For the pallid moon is waning, O’er the spiral cypress hanging And the moon no cloud is staining.
Silence! Oh, well are Death and… Three brethren named, the guardian… Of one abyss, where life, and trut… Are swallowed up—yet spare me, Sp… Until the sounds I hear become my…
How stern are the woes of the deso… As he bends in still grief o’er th… As enanguished he turns from the l… And drops to perfection’s remembra… When floods of despair down his pa…
As from an ancestral oak Two empty ravens sound their clari… Yell by yell, and croak by croak, When they scent the noonday smoke Of fresh human carrion:—
Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once… To the bright Sun, thy hymn of mu… Whom to the child of star-clad He… Euryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, bro… Euryphaessa, the famed sister fair
The world is now our dwelling-plac… Where’er the earth one fading trac… Of what was great and free does ke… That is our home!... Mild thoughts of man’s ungentle ra…
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…
Orphan Hours, the Year is dead, Come and sigh, come and weep! Merry Hours, smile instead, For the Year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping,
’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…
No trump tells thy virtues’the g… With thy dust shall remain unpollu… Till thy foes, by the world and by… Shall pass like a mist from the li… VII.
No, Music, thou art not the ‘food… Unless Love feeds upon its own sw… Till it becomes all Music murmurs…
I weep for Adonais—he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
A woodman whose rough heart was ou… (I think such hearts yet never cam… Hated to hear, under the stars or… One nightingale in an interfluous… Satiate the hungry dark with melod…
