#EnglishWriters
Like the ghost of a dear friend de… Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last,
Where man’s profane and tainting h… Nature’s primaeval loveliness ha… And some few souls of the high bli… Which else obey her powerful comma… ...mountain piles
Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on Day and night, and night and day,
If I walk in Autumn’s even While the dead leaves pass, If I look on Spring’s soft heav… Something is not there which was Winter’s wondrous frost and snow,
Emily, A ship is floating in the harbour… A wind is hovering o’er the mounta… There is a path on the sea’s azure… No keel has ever plough’d that pat…
An old, mad, blind, despised, and… Princes, the dregs of their dull r… Through public scorn,—mud from a m… Rulers who neither see nor feel no… But leechlike to their fainting co…
The season was the childhood of sw… Whose sunny hours from morning unt… Went creeping through the day with… Each with its load of pleasure; sl… Like the long years of blest Eter…
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…
One word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair
Ambition, power, and avarice, now… Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleedi… See! on yon heath what countless v… Hark! what loud shrieks ascend thr… Tell then the cause, 'tis sure the…
Dar’st thou amid the varied multit… To live alone, an isolated thing? To see the busy beings round thee… And care for none; in thy calm sol… A flower that scarce breathes in t…
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…
By the mossy brink, With me the Prince shall sit and… Shall muse in visioned Regency, Rapt in bright dreams of dawning…
Here I sit with my paper, my pen… First of this thing, and that thin… Then my thoughts come so pell-mell… That the sense or the subject I n… This word is wrong placed,—no rega…
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on t… Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a differ… And ever changing, like a joyless…
