#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Come, thou awakener of the spirit’… Zephyr, whom to thy cloud or cave No thought can trace! speed with t…
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…
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.
In the cave which wild weeds cover Wait for thine aethereal lover; For the pallid moon is waning, O’er the spiral cypress hanging And the moon no cloud is staining.
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…
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…
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?
I loved’alas! our life is love; But when we cease to breathe and m… I do suppose love ceases too. I thought, but not as now I do, Keen thoughts and bright of linked…
Yet look on me—take not thine eyes… Which feed upon the love within mi… Which is indeed but the reflected… Of thine own beauty from my spirit… Yet speak to me—thy voice is as th…
How swiftly through Heaven’s wide… Bright day’s resplendent colours f… How sweetly does the moonbeam’s gl… With silver tint St. Irvyne’s gla… II.
It is not blasphemy to hope that… More perfectly will give those nam… Which throb within the pulses of t… And sweeten all that bitterness wh… Infuses in the heaven-born soul.…
I rode one evening with Count Mad… Upon the bank of land which breaks… Of Adria towards Venice: a bare s… Of hillocks, heap’d from ever—shif… Matted with thistles and amphibiou…
What! alive and so bold, O Earth? Art thou not overbold? What! leapest thou forth as of old In the light of thy morning mirth, The last of the flock of the starr…
As from an ancestral oak Two empty ravens sound their clari… Yell by yell, and croak by croak, When they scent the noonday smoke Of fresh human carrion:—
Oh! take the pure gem to where sou… Waft repose to some bosom as faith… In which the warm current of love… As it rises unmingled with selfish… Which, untainted by pride, unpollu…
