#Couplet #EnglishWriters #Epigram
Yet look on me—take not thine eyes… Which feed upon the love within mi… Which is indeed but the reflected… Of thine own beauty from my spirit… Yet speak to me—thy voice is as th…
What was the shriek that struck F… As it sate on the ruins of time th… Hark! it floats on the fitful blas… And breathes to the pale moon a fu… It is the Benshie’s moan on the s…
The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing— Away!
There was a little lawny islet By anemone and violet, Like mosaic, paven: And its roof was flowers and leave… Which the summer’s breath enweaves…
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…
(With what truth may I say— Roma! Roma! Roma! Non e piu come era prima!) My lost William, thou in whom Some bright spirit lived, and did
I love thee, Baby! for thine own… Those azure eyes, that faintly dim… Thy tender frame, so eloquently we… Love in the sternest heart of hate… But more when o’er thy fitful slum…
ACCORDING to one mode of regarding those two classes of mental action, which are called reason and imagination, the former may be considered as mind contemplating the relations borne by...
Dakrysi Dioisw Potmon Apotmon Oh! there are spirits of the air, And genii of the evening breeze, And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fa… As star-beams among twilight trees…
How stern are the woes of the deso… As he bends in still grief o’er th… As enanguished he turns from the l… And drops to perfection’s remembra… When floods of despair down his pa…
Vessels of heavenly medicine! may… Auspicious waft your dark green fo… Safe may ye stem the wide surround… Of the wild whirlwinds and the rag… And oh! if Liberty e’er deigned t…
Come Harriet! sweet is the hour, Soft Zephyrs breathe gently aroun… The anemone’s night-boding flower, Has sunk its pale head on the grou… 'Tis thus the world’s keenness hat…
Ye hasten to the grave! What seek… Ye restless thoughts and busy purp… Of the idle brain, which the world… O thou quick heart, which pantest… All that pale Expectation feignet…
My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth… Upon the silver waves of thy sweet… And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it,
I bring fresh showers for the thir… From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves… In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews…