#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
From the Greek of Moschus. Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament… Augment your tide, O streams, wit… For the beloved Bion is no more. Let every tender herb and plant an…
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep, Have they the Bromian drink from the vine’s stream? What, ho! assistance, comrades, haste, assistance! Or boiled and seethed within...
Is it that in some brighter sphere We part from friends we meet with… Or do we see the Future pass Over the Present’s dusky glass? Or what is that that makes us seem
When a lover clasps his fairest, Then be our dread sport the rarest… Their caresses were like the chaff In the tempest, and be our laugh His despair—her epitaph!
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…
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken… Rose leaves, when the rose is dead…
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…
Thus to be lost and thus to sink a… Perchance were death indeed!'Co… In thy dark eyes a power like ligh… Even though the sounds which were… Between thy lips, are laid to slee…
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…
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?
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…
Faint with love, the Lady of the… Lay in the paradise of Lebanon Under a heaven of cedar boughs: th… Of love was on her lips; the light… Out of her eyes—
A Fragment PART I There was a youth, who, as with to… Had grown quite weak and gray befo… Nor any could the restless griefs…
Come, be happy!'sit near me, Shadow-vested Misery: Coy, unwilling, silent bride, Mourning in thy robe of pride, Desolation’deified!
Fierce roars the midnight storm O’er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain— See! o’er yon rocky height,
