#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
The billows on the beach are leapi… The bark is weak and frail, The sea looks black, and the cloud… Darkly strew the gale. Come with me, thou delightful chil…
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are… Ocean of Time, whose waters of de… Are brackish with the salt of huma… Thou shoreless flood, which in thy… Claspest the limits of mortality!
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…
Here, my dear friend, is a new boo… I have already dedicated two To other friends, one female and o… What you are, is a thing that I m… What can this be to those who prai…
A portal as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highway of t… Which we all tread, a cavern huge… Around it rages an unceasing strif… Of shadows, like the restless clou…
The world’s great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empi…
I went into the deserts of dim sle… That world which, like an unknown… Bounds this with its recesses wide…
And like a dying lady, lean and pa… Who totters forth, wrapped in a ga… Out of her chamber, led by the ins… And feeble wanderings of her fadin… The moon arose up in the murky eas…
‘Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh,’ Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit, or ca… And I, who thought
The rude wind is singing The dirge of the music dead; The cold worms are clinging Where kisses were lately fed.
Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of… Who denies verse to Gallus? So, w… Glidest beneath the green and purp… Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou f…
The fitful alternations of the rai… When the chill wind, languid as wi… Of its own heavy moisture, here an… Drives through the gray and beamle…
Our boat is asleep on Serchio’s s… Its sails are folded like thoughts… The helm sways idly, hither and th… Dominic, the boatman, has brought… And the oars, and the sails; but ’…
Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day
Flourishing vine, whose kindling c… Beneath the autumnal sun, none tas… For thou dost shroud a ruin, and b… The rotting bones of dead antiquit…
