#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Let those who pine in pride or in… Or think that ill for ill should b… Who barter wrong for wrong, until… Ruins the merchants of such thrift… Visit the tower of Vado, and unle…
And canst thou mock mine agony, th… In cloudless radiance, Queen of s… Can you, ye flow’rets, spread your… Mid pearly gems of dew that shine… And you wild winds, thus can you s…
Adapted From The Vita Nuova Of… What Mary is when she a little sm… I cannot even tell or call to mind… It is a miracle so new, so rare.
Arise, arise, arise! There is blood on the earth that d… Be your wounds like eyes To weep for the dead, the dead, th… What other grief were it just to p…
I love thee, Baby! for thine own… Those azure eyes, that faintly dim… Thy tender frame, so eloquently we… Love in the sternest heart of hate… But more when o’er thy fitful slum…
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,
Honey from silkworms who can gathe… Or silk from the yellow bee? The grass may grow in winter weath… As soon as hate in me. II.
Death! where is thy victory? To triumph whilst I die, To triumph whilst thine ebon wing Enfolds my shuddering soul? O Death! where is thy sting?
That time is dead for ever, child! Drowned, frozen, dead for ever! We look on the past And stare aghast At the spectres wailing, pale and…
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods and men and beasts have birth… Leaf and blade, and bud and blosso… Breathe thine influence most divin…
The babe is at peace within the wo… The corpse is at rest within the t… We begin in what we end.
By the mossy brink, With me the Prince shall sit and… Shall muse in visioned Regency, Rapt in bright dreams of dawning…
The death-bell beats!— The mountain repeats The echoing sound of the knell; And the dark Monk now Wraps the cowl round his brow,
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…
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,
