#English #Victorians
The song of a nightingale sent thr… Low-lidded with twilight, and tran… Tranced with a tender enchantment;… That wins immortality even while p…
Last night returning from my twili… I met the grey mist Death, whose… Was bent on me, and from his hand… He reached me flowers as from a wi… O Death, what bitter nosegays giv…
Give to imagination some pure ligh… In human form to fix it, or you sh… The devils with that hideous human… Imagination urging appetite! Thus fallen have earth’s greatest…
Rub thou thy battered lamp: nor cl… Honours from aught about thee. Li… Thy frame is as a dusty mantle hun… O grey one! pendant on a loosened… Thou art for this our life an anci…
Not vainly doth the earnest voice… Call for the thing that is his pur… Fame is the birthright of the livi… To noble impulse Nature puts no b… Nor vainly to the Sphinx thy voic…
Out in the yellow meadows, where t… Hums by us with the honey of the… And showers of sweet notes from th… Are dropping like a noon-dew, wand… Or is it now? or was it then? for…
On her great venture, Man, Earth gazes while her fingers dint… Which is his well of strength, his… And fair to scan. More aid than that embrace,
She yields: my Lady in her nobles… Has yielded: she, my golden-crownÃ… The bride of every sense! more swe… Who breathe the violet breath of m… O visage of still music in the sky
Within a Temple of the Toes, Where twirled the passionate Wili… I saw full many a market rose, And sighed for my village lily. With cynical Adrian then I took f…
[Iliad, B. XIV. V. 394] Not the sea-wave so bellows abroad… Whipped from the sea’s deeps up by… Nay, nor is ever the roar of the f… Down along mountain-glades, when i…
What soul would bargain for a cure… Contempt the nobler agony to kill? Rather let me bear on the bitter i… And strike this rusty bosom with n… It seems there is another veering…
Distraction is the panacea, Sir! I hear my oracle of Medicine say. Doctor! that same specific yesterd… I tried, and the result will not d… A second trial. Is the devil’s li…
Or shall we run with Artemis Or yield the breast to Aphrodite? Both are mighty; Both give bliss; Each can torture if divided;
High climbs June’s wild rose, Her bush all blooms in a swarm; And swift from the bud she blows, In a day when the wooer is warm; Frank to receive and give,
A revelation came on Jane, The widow of a labouring swain: And first her body trembled sharp, Then all the woman was a harp With winds along the strings; she…