#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Dares the lama, most fleet of the… The lion to rouse from his skull-c… When the tiger approaches can the… Repose trust in his footsteps of a… No! Abandoned he sinks in a tranc…
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,
Ambition, power, and avarice, now… Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleedi… See! on yon heath what countless v… Hark! what loud shrieks ascend thr… Tell then the cause, 'tis sure the…
A: Not far from hence. From yonder p… Crowned with a ring of oaks, you m… A dark and barren field, through w… Sluggish and black, a deep but nar…
Silver key of the fountain of tear… Where the spirit drinks till the b… Softest grave of a thousand fears, Where their mother, Care, like a… Is laid asleep in flowers.
The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls… Now dark—now glittering—now reflec… Now lending splendour, where from… The source of human thought its tr…
Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, a… Led by some strong enchantment, mi… A magic ship, whose charmed sails… With winds at will where’er our th… So that no change, nor any evil ch…
The sleepless Hours who watch me… Curtained with star-inwoven tapest… From the broad moonlight of the sk… Fanning the busy dreams from my di… Waken me when their Mother, the g…
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save…
The billows on the beach are leapi… The bark is weak and frail, The sea looks black, and the cloud… Darkly strew the gale. Come with me, thou delightful chil…
No trump tells thy virtues’the g… With thy dust shall remain unpollu… Till thy foes, by the world and by… Shall pass like a mist from the li… VII.
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken… Rose leaves, when the rose is dead…
SWIFTLY walk o’er the western w… Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave,— Where, all the long and lone dayli… Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
The rude wind is singing The dirge of the music dead; The cold worms are clinging Where kisses were lately fed.
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! I know the secrets of the air, And things are lost in the glare o… Which I can make the sleeping see…
