#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #Couplet #Epigram
A hater he came and sat by a ditch… And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more… ‘Gainst a woman that was a brute.
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings o… Speed thee in thy fiery flight, In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now? II.
The Elements respect their Maker’… Still Like the scathed pine tree’… Braving the tempests of the night Have I 'scaped the flickering fla… Like the scathed pine, which a mon…
O universal Mother, who dost keep From everlasting thy foundations d… Eldest of things, Great Earth, I… All shapes that have their dwellin… All things that fly, or on the gro…
Emily, A ship is floating in the harbour… A wind is hovering o’er the mounta… There is a path on the sea’s azure… No keel has ever plough’d that pat…
The fiery mountains answer each ot… Their thunderings are echoed from… The tempestuous oceans awake one a… And the ice-rocks are shaken round… When the clarion of the Typhoon i…
Corpses are cold in the tomb; Stones on the pavement are dumb; Abortions are dead in the womb, And their mothers look pale—like t… Of Albion, free no more.
Sweet star, which gleaming o’er th… Through fleecy clouds of silvery r… Spanglet of light on evening’s sha… Which shrouds the day-beam from th… Lighting the hour of sacred love;…
The rude wind is singing The dirge of the music dead; The cold worms are clinging Where kisses were lately fed.
The flower that smiles to—day To—morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world’s delight?
Oh! did you observe the Black Can… And did you observe his frown? He goeth to say the midnight mass, In holy St. Edmond’s town. He goeth to sing the burial chaunt…
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…
'Thus do the generations of the ea… Go to the grave and issue from the… Surviving still the imperishable c… That renovates the world; even as… Which the keen frost-wind of the w…
AWAY! the moor is dark beneath t… Rapid clouds have drunk the las… Away! the gathering winds will cal… And profoundest midnight shroud… Pause not! the time is past! Ever…
(With what truth may I say— Roma! Roma! Roma! Non e piu come era prima!) My lost William, thou in whom Some bright spirit lived, and did
