#EnglishWriters
A lake and a fairy boat To sail in the moonlight clear, - And merrily we would float From the dragons that watch us her… Thy gown should be snow-white silk
I love thee—I love thee! ’Tis all that I can say;— It is my vision in the night, My dreaming in the day; The very echo of my heart,
Look how the lark soars upward and… Turning a spirit as he nears the s… His voice is heard, but body there… To fix the vague excursions of the… So, poets’ songs are with us, tho’…
No sun - no moon! No morn– no noon – No dawn– no dusk– no proper time o… No warmth, no cheerfulness, no hea… No comfortable feel in any member…
A poor old king, with sorrow for m… Throned upon straw, and mantled wi… For pity, my own tears have made m… That I might never see my childre… And, may be, madness, like a frien…
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold Molten, graven, hammered and rolle… Heavy to get and light to hold, Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold…
I had a gig-horse, and I called h… Because on Sundays for a little j… He was so fast and showy, quite a… Although he sometimes kicked and s… I had a chaise, and christened it…
Immortal Imogen, crown’d queen ab… The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe t… A fairy dream in honor of true lov… True above ills, and frailty, and… Perchance a shadow of his own care…
Oh, very gloomy is the house of wo… Where tears are falling while the… With all the dark solemnities that… That Death is in the dwelling! Oh, very, very dreary is the room
The world is with me, and its many… Its woes—its wants—the anxious hop… That wait on all terrestrial affai… The shades of former and of future… Forboding fancies and prophetic te…
There is dew for the flow’ret And honey for the bee, And bowers for the wild bird, And love for you and me. There are tears for the many
We watch’d her breathing thro’ the… Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. But when the morn came dim and sad
—Methought I saw Life swiftly treading over endless… And, at her foot-print, but a bygo… The ocean-past, which, with increa… Swallow’d her steps like a pursuin…
A Pathetic Ballad Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war’s alarms; But a cannon-ball took off his leg… So he laid down his arms.
Love thy mother, little one! Kiss and clasp her neck again,— Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in va… Love thy mother, little one!