#Couplet #EnglishWriters #Epigram
Wilt thou forget the happy hours Which we buried in Love’s sweet… Heaping over their corpses cold Blossoms and leaves, instead of mo… Blossoms which were the joys that…
Fierce roars the midnight storm O’er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain— See! o’er yon rocky height,
'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind… Its blast wanders mournfully over… The thunder’s wild voice rattles… You will not then, cannot then, le… I must dearest Agnes, the night i…
The fountains mingle with the rive… And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single;
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it… Who dares arrest the wheels of des… And plunge me in the lowest Hell… Will not the lightning’s blast des… Will not steel drink the blood-lif…
“Throughout these infinite orbs of… Of which yon earth is one, is wide… A Spirit of activity and life, That knows no term, cessation, or… That fades not when the lamp of ea…
Rough wind, that moanest loud Grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm whose tears are vain,
ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it; One feeling too falsely disdain’d For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair
Is not to-day enough? Why do I pe… Into the darkness of the day to co… Is not to-morrow even as yesterday… And will the day that follows chan… Few flowers grow upon thy wintry w…
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; Thy gentle words stir poison there… Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair! Subdued to Duty’s hard control,
Muse, sing the deeds of golden Ap… Who wakens with her smile the lull… Of sweet desire, taming the eterna… Of Heaven, and men, and all the l… That fleet along the air, or whom…
An old, mad, blind, despised, and… Princes, the dregs of their dull r… Through public scorn,—mud from a m… Rulers who neither see nor feel no… But leechlike to their fainting co…
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…
I rode one evening with Count Mad… Upon the bank of land which breaks… Of Adria towards Venice: a bare s… Of hillocks, heap’d from ever-shif… Matted with thistles and amphibiou…
Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day