#English
Returning from the cruel fight How pale and faint appears my knig… He sees me anxious at his side; ‘Why seek, my love, your wounds to… Or deem your English girl afraid
Long by the willow-trees Vainly they sought her, Wild rang the mother’s screams O’er the gray water: ‘Where is my lovely one?
Now the toils of day are over, And the sun hath sunk to rest, Seeking, like a fiery lover, The bosom of the blushing west— The faithful night keeps watch and…
Yonder to the kiosk, beside the cr… Paddle the swift caique. Thou brawny oarsman with the sunbu… Quick! for it soothes my heart to… Ferry me quickly to the Asian sho…
‘Your Molly has never been false,… Since the last time we parted at… When I said that I would continue… And I gave you the ’bacco-box mar… When I passed a whole fortnight b…
In tattered old slippers that toas… And a ragged old jacket perfumed w… Away from the world, and its toils… I’ve a snug little kingdom up four… To mount to this realm is a toil,…
Beneath the gold acacia buds My gentle Nora sits and broods, Far, far away in Boston woods My gentle Nora! I see the tear-drop in her e’e,
Under the stone you behold, Buried, and coffined, and cold, Lieth Sir Wilfrid the Bold. Always he marched in advance, Warring in Flanders and France,
[The Poet describes the city and… A thousand years ago, or more, A city filled with burghers stout, And girt with ramparts round about… Stood on the rocky Dnieper shore.
Beside the old hall-fire—upon my n… Of happy fairy days—what tales wer… I thought the world was once—all p… And my heart would beat to hear—th… And many a quiet night,—in slumber…
A humble flower long time I pined Upon the solitary plain, And trembled at the angry wind, And shrunk before the bitter rain. And oh! ’twas in a blessed hour
Dear Lucy, you know what my wish… I hate all your Frenchified fuss: Your silly entrées and made dishes Were never intended for us. No footman in lace and in ruffles
When fierce political debate Throughout the isle was storming, And Rads attacked the throne and… And Tories the reforming, To calm the furious rage of each,
An igstrawnary tail I vill tell y… I stood in the Court of A’Becket… Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I… Who charged Mary Brown with a rob… This Mary was pore and in misery…
Winter and summer, night and morn, I languish at this table dark; My office window has a corn– er looks into St. James’s Park. I hear the foot-guards’ bugle-horn…