#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
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
'What art thou, Presumptuous, who… The wreath to mighty poets only du… Even whilst like a forgotten moon… Touch not those leaves which for t… Who wander o’er the Paradise of f…
One sung of thee who left the tale… Like the false dawns which perish… Like empty cups of wrought and dae… Which mock the lips with air, when…
Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula… Fortunata mmis Machina dicit hora… Quas manibus premit ilia duas inse… Cur mihi sit digito tangere, amata…
Arethusa arose From her couch of snows In the Acroceraunian mountains,— From cloud and from crag, With many a jag,
To thirst and find no fill—to wail… With short unsteady steps—to pause… To feel the blood run through the… Where busy thought and blind sensa… To nurse the image of unfelt cares…
Death! where is thy victory? To triumph whilst I die, To triumph whilst thine ebon wing Enfolds my shuddering soul? O Death! where is thy sting?
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…
‘O happy Earth, reality of Heaven… To which those restless souls that… Throng through the human universe,… Thou consummation of all mortal ho… Thou glorious prize of blindly wor…
They die—the dead return not—Mise… Sits near an open grave and calls… A Youth with hoary hair and hagga… They are the names of kindred, fri… Which he so feebly calls—they all…
The fountains mingle with the rive… And the rivers with the ocean; The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single;
Cold, cold is the blast when Dece… Cold are the damps on a dying man’… Stern are the seas when the wild w… And sad is the grave where a loved… But colder is scorn from the being…
Wilt thou forget the happy hours Which we buried in Love’s sweet… Heaping over their corpses cold Blossoms and leaves, instead of mo… Blossoms which were the joys that…
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…
Swift as a spirit hastening to his… Of glory & of good, the Sun spran… Rejoicing in his splendour, & the… Of darkness fell from the awakened… The smokeless altars of the mounta…
