#EnglishWriters
What men gain fairly—that they sho… And children may inherit idleness, From him who earns it’This is u… Private injustice may be general g… But he who gains by base and armed…
THE world is dreary, And I’m weary Of wandering on without thee, Mar… A joy was erewhile In thy voice and thy smile,
Dear home, thou scene of earliest… The least of which wronged Memory… Bitterer than all thine unremember…
How, my dear Mary,—are you critic… (For vipers kill, though dead) by… That you condemn these verses I h… Because they tell no story, false… What, though no mice are caught by…
I loved’alas! our life is love; But when we cease to breathe and m… I do suppose love ceases too. I thought, but not as now I do, Keen thoughts and bright of linked…
I weep for Adonais –he is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our t… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once… To the bright Sun, thy hymn of mu… Whom to the child of star-clad He… Euryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, bro… Euryphaessa, the famed sister fair
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…
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,
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on t… Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a differ… And ever changing, like a joyless…
The rose that drinks the fountain… In the pleasant air of noon, Grows pale and blue with altered h… In the gaze of the nightly moon; For the planet of frost, so cold a…
SCENE.—A Ravine of Icy Rocks i… Prometheus. Monarch of Gods and Dæmons, and a… But One, who throng those bright… Which Thou and I alone of living…
There is a warm and gentle atmosph… About the form of one we love, and… As in a tender mist our spirits ar… Wrapped in the of that which is to… The health of life’s own life—
I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright I arise from dreams of thee,
Inter marmoreas Leonorae pendula… Fortunata mmis Machina dicit hora… Quas manibus premit ilia duas inse… Cur mihi sit digito tangere, amata…