#EnglishWriters
When moonlike ore the hazure seas In soft effulgence swells, When silver jews and balmy breaze Bend down the Lily’s bells; When calm and deap, the rosy sleep
‘I am Miss Catherine’s book,' the… ‘I’ve lain among your tomes these… I’m tired of their old coats and y… ‘Quick, Pen! and write a line wit… Come! draw me off a funny little f…
The play is done; the curtain drop… Slow falling to the prompter’s bel… A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell. It is an irksome word and task;
‘A surgeon of the United States’… the Captain of his company, he fou… had enlisted on account of some fe… Ye Yankee Volunteers! It makes my bosom bleed
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…
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…
First I saw the white bear, then… Then I saw the camel with a hump… Then I saw the grey wolf, with mu… Then I saw the wombat waddle in t… Then I saw the elephant a-waving…
Je viens revoir l’asile ou ma jeun… De la misere a subi les lecons. J’avais vingt ans, une folle maitr… De francs amis et l’amour des chan… Bravant le monde et les sots et le…
Riding from Coleraine (Famed for lovely Kitty), Came a Cockney bound Unto Derry city; Weary was his soul,
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?
Part I. At Paris, hard by the Maine barri… Whoever will choose to repair, Midst a dozen of wooden-legged war… May haply fall in with old Pierre…
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…
Come to the greenwood tree, Come where the dark woods be, Dearest, O come with me! Let us rove—O my love—O my love! Come—'tis the moonlight hour,
Dear Jack, this white mug that wi… And drink to the health of sweet… Was once Tommy Tosspot’s, as jovi… As e’er drew a spigot, or drain’d… In drinking all round ’twas his jo…
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