#EnglishWriters
Now the last day of many days, All beautiful and bright as thou, The loveliest and the last, is dea… Rise, Memory, and write its prais… Up,—to thy wonted work! come, trac…
How swiftly through Heaven’s wide… Bright day’s resplendent colours f… How sweetly does the moonbeam’s gl… With silver tint St. Irvyne’s gla… II.
And earnest to explore within—arou… The divine wood, whose thick green… Tempered the young day to the sigh… Up the green slope, beneath the fo… With slow, soft steps leaving the…
Is not to-day enough? Why do I pe… Into the darkness of the day to co… Is not to-morrow even as yesterday… And will the day that follows chan… Few flowers grow upon thy wintry w…
Listen, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine, It bursts on the roof like the thu… Or like the sea on a northern shor… Heard in its raging ebb and flow
Vessels of heavenly medicine! may… Auspicious waft your dark green fo… Safe may ye stem the wide surround… Of the wild whirlwinds and the rag… And oh! if Liberty e’er deigned t…
As the sunrise to the night, As the north wind to the clouds, As the earthquake’s fiery flight, Ruining mountain solitudes, Everlasting Italy,
From the Greek. Eagle! why soarest thou above that… To what sublime and star-ypaven ho… Floatest thou?— I am the image of swift Plato’s s…
'Tis the terror of tempest. The r… Are flickering in ribbons within t… From the stark night of vapours th… And when lightning is loosed, like… She sees the black trunks of the w…
Alas, good friend, what profit can… In hating such a hateless thing as… There is no sport in hate where al… Is on one side: in vain would you… Your frowns upon an unresisting sm…
Rarely, rarely comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day
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…
MY faint spirit was sitting in th… Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hin… For the brooks, my love. Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the…
'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…
That time is dead for ever, child! Drowned, frozen, dead for ever! We look on the past And stare aghast At the spectres wailing, pale and…
