#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
The serpent is shut out from Para… The wounded deer must seek the her… In which its heart-cure lies: The widowed dove must cease to hau… Like that from which its mate with…
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
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save
I dreamed that, as I wandered by… Bare Winter suddenly was changed… And gentle odours led my steps ast… Mixed with a sound of waters murmu… Along a shelving bank of turf, whi…
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…
My faint spirit was sitting in the… Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hind a… For the brooks, my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the…
Ever as now with Love and Virtue’… May thy unwithering soul not cease… Still may thine heart with those p… Which force from mine such quick a…
Hark! the owlet flaps her wing, In the pathless dell beneath, Hark! night ravens loudly sing, Tidings of despair and death.— Horror covers all the sky,
'Here lieth One whose name was wr… But, ere the breath that could era… Death, in remorse for that fell sl… Death, the immortalizing winter, f… Athwart the stream,—and time’s pri…
He wanders, like a day-appearing d… Through the dim wildernesses of th… Through desert woods and tracts, w… Like ocean, homeless, boundless, u…
Dear home, thou scene of earliest… The least of which wronged Memory… Bitterer than all thine unremember…
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; Thy gentle words stir poison there… Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair! Subdued to Duty’s hard control,
The stars may dissolve, and the fo… May sink into ne’er ending chaos a… Our mansions must fall, and earth… But thy courage O Erin! may never… See! the wide wasting ruin extends…
Swifter far than summer’s flight— Swifter far than youth’s delight— Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone— As the earth when leaves are dead,
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is il… Which severs those it should unite… Let us remain together still, Then it will be good night. How can I call the lone night goo…
