#English #Romanticism
This Sycamore, oft musical with b… Such tents the Patriarchs loved!… May all its agèd boughs o’er—canop… The small round basin, which this… Keeps pure from falling leaves! L…
Water and windmills, greenness, I… Willows whose Trunks beside the s… Of their own higher half, and will… Farmhouses that at anchor seem’d—i… The fog-transfixing Spires—
Resembles Life what once was held… Too ample in itself for human sigh… An absolute Self—an element ungro… All, that we see, all colours of a… [Image]By encroach of darkness ma…
Away, those cloudy looks, that lab… The peevish offspring of a sickly… Nor meanly thus complain of fortun… When the blind gamester throws a l… Yon setting sun flashes a mournful…
Hence that fantastic wantonness of… O Youth to partial Fortune vainly… To plunder’d Want’s half-shelter’… Go, and some hunger-bitten infant… Moan haply in a dying mother’s ear…
Underneath an old oak tree There was of swine a huge company That grunted as they crunched the… For that was ripe, and fell full f… Then they trotted away, for the wi…
'Twas my last waking thought, how… That thou, sweet friend, such angu… When straight from Dreamland came… Could tell the cause, forsooth, an… Methought he fronted me with peeri…
Well, they are gone, and here must… This lime—tree bower my prison! I… Beauties and feelings, such as wou… Most sweet to my remembrance even… Had dimm’d mine eyes to blindness!…
Schiller! that hour I would have… If thro’ the shudd’ring midnight… From the dark Dungeon of the Towe… That fearful voice, a famished Fa… That in no after moment aught less…
It was some spirit, Sheridan! tha… O’er thy young mind such wildly-va… My soul hath marked thee in her sh… Thy temples with Hymettian flowre… And sweet thy voice, as when o’er…
Though friendships differ endless… The sorts, methinks, may be reduce… Ac quaintance many, and Con quain… But for In quaintance I know only… The friend I’ve mourned with, and…
A mount, not wearisome and bare an… But a green mountain variously up-… Where o’er the jutting rocks soft… Or colored lichens with slow oozin… Where cypress and the darker yew s…
I stood on Brocken’s sovran heigh… Woods crowding upon woods, hills o… A surging scene, and only limited By the blue distance. Heavily my… Downward I dragged through fir gr…
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose,
