#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright I arise from dreams of thee,
‘Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind… Its blast wanders mournfully over… The thunder’s wild voice rattles m… You will not then, cannot then, le… I must dearest Agnes, the night i…
Such hope, as is the sick despair… Such fear, as is the certainty of… Such doubt, as is pale Expectatio… Turned while she tastes to poison,… Is powerless, and the spirit...
My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth… Upon the silver waves of thy sweet… And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it,
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
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 sun is set; the swallows are a… The bats are flitting fast in the… The slow soft toads out of damp co… And evening’s breath, wandering he… Over the quivering surface of the…
Serene in his unconquerable might Endued[,] the Almighty King, his… Encompassed unapproachably with po… And darkness and deep solitude an… Stood like a black cloud on some a…
She was an aged woman; and the yea… Which she had numbered on her toil… Had bowed her natural powers to de… She was an aged woman; yet the ray Which faintly glimmered through he…
Daughters of Jove, whose voice is… Muses, who know and rule all minst… Sing the wide-winged Moon! Around… From her immortal head in Heaven… Far light is scattered—boundless g…
Rough wind, that moanest loud Grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm whose tears are vain,
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…
As the sunrise to the night, As the north wind to the clouds, As the earthquake’s fiery flight, Ruining mountain solitudes, Everlasting Italy,
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…
Ye hasten to the grave! What seek… Ye restless thoughts and busy purp… Of the idle brain, which the world… O thou quick heart, which pantest… All that pale Expectation feignet…
