#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale, To bathe this burning brow. Moonbeam, why art thou so pale, As thou walkest o’er the dewy dale… Where humble wild-flowers grow?
Oh! did you observe the Black Can… And did you observe his frown? He goeth to say the midnight mass, In holy St. Edmond’s town. He goeth to sing the burial chaunt…
Ask not the pallid stranger’s woe, With beating heart and throbbing b… Whose step is faltering, weak, and… As though the body needed rest.— Whose ‘wildered eye no object meet…
‘Buona notte, buona notte!’—Come… La notte sara buona senza te? Non dirmi buona notte,—che tu sai, La notte sa star buona da per se. II.
A shovel of his ashes took From the hearth’s obscurest nook, Muttering mysteries as she went. Helen and Henry knew that Granny Was as much afraid of Ghosts as a…
The stars may dissolve, and the fo… May sink into ne’er ending chaos a… Our mansions must fall, and earth… But thy courage O Erin! may never… See! the wide wasting ruin extends…
Swiftly walk o’er the western wave… Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone dayli… Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear…
Wealth and dominion fade into the… Of the great sea of human right an… When once from our possession they… But love, though misdirected, is a… The things which are immortal, and…
The keen stars were twinkling, And the fair moon was rising among… Dear Jane. The guitar was tinkling, But the notes were not sweet till…
Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death—and we are death. II.
And like a dying lady, lean and pa… Who totters forth, wrapp’d in a ga… Out of her chamber, led by the ins… And feeble wanderings of her fadin… The moon arose up in the murky Ea…
The death knell is ringing The raven is singing The earth worm is creeping The mourners are weeping Ding dong, bell—
I weep for Adonais—he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
And earnest to explore within—arou… The divine wood, whose thick green… Tempered the young day to the sigh… Up the green slope, beneath the fo… With slow, soft steps leaving the…
Oh! what is the gain of restless c… And what is ambitious treasure? And what are the joys that the mod… In their sickly haunts of pleasure… My husband’s repast with delight…
