#EnglishWriters
IN the coal-pit, or the factory, I toil by night or day, And still to the music of labour I lilt my heart-felt lay; I lilt my heart-felt lay
UPON a steed he came with speed, The Day behind him breaking; And still he sped when Day o’erhe… Her last farewell was taking. ‘Ah, whither fliest?—Name thy goa…
MY love at Seaton Terrace dwells… A hale and hearty wight, Who lilts away the summer day, Also the winter night: The merriest bird with rapture sti…
WHY thus mourn o’er star-hopes fa… They are only from thy ken, By a passing vapour shaded, And will soon appear again: Would thou prove a moral warrior,
A CHANGE hath come over young… The yellow-hair’d lass of the Den… Erewhile she look’s cosy and canny… But now—now, what aileth the queen… Erewhile she’d the bearing which b…
IT sounded in castle and palace, It sounded in cottage and shed, It sped over mountains and valleys… And withered the earth as it sped Like a blast in its fell consummat…
Last night at the Fair did I lose… I hunted thee south and I hunted… I’d rather than lost thee have los… That all the great lords in the ki… Heart-sorry in worry and flurry di…
Mother wept, and father sigh’d; With delight a-glow Cried the lad, “To-morrow,” cried… “To the pit I go.” Up and down the place he sped,
My lad he is a Collier Lad, And a blithe, blithe soul is he, And when a holiday comes around, He’ll spend that day in glee; He’ll tell his tale o’er a pint o’…
’TWAS on a night, with sleet and… From out the north a tempest blew, When Thistle to her cot did go The little Nettle’s self to woo. His errand known, she, with a frow…
DECK’D in a many gems of morn, A daffodil without a peer, I reared my head, and treat with s… A one-pearl-gifted daisy near. That very hour, lo! wind-a-rock’d
DUSKIER than the clouds that li… ‘Tween the coal-pit and the sky, Lo, how Willy whistles by Right cheery from the colliree. Duskier might the laddie be
CRIED Ciss to the breeze, as un… She lay at her ease, one day, ‘From thy rovings cease, and a mai… Of thy doings breeze now say! ’Be it so,' sang he; 'from the wes…
Too lovely art thou to behold, And not to be stung by desire, To bathe in those ringlets of gold… To bathe in those glances of fire. Too lovely art thou to the ken,
UNKNIT that brow; the day too s… Departs when starry nights are nea… They’re clouded now, nor will the… Once come and try to make them cle… Be not like her, a peevish girl;—