Sonnet CLXIX: “Should I portray thee merely as I can” (George Henry Boker Poems)
Should I portray thee merely as I can, In my conceit belittling all thy worth With the dry bareness of ...
Should I portray thee merely as I can, In my conceit belittling all thy worth With the dry bareness of ...
The fly upon the Cartwheel Thought she made all the Sound; He thought he made the Cart go on- And ...
I. Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel! Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! They could not in the self-same mansion ...
Lord, how couldst thou so much appease Thy wrath for sin, as when man's sight was dim, And could see ...
(a) they seek to celebrate the word not to bring their knives out on a poem dissecting it to find ...
The three stood listening to a fresh access Of wind that caught against the house a moment, Gulped snow, and ...
I hear some say, "This man is not in love." "What? Can he love? A likely thing," they say; "Read ...
To Admiration Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Ravish'd a world beyond the farthest thought, And knowing more ...
So large my Will The little that I may Embarrasses Like gentle infamy -- Affront to Him For whom the ...
The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea -- Forgets her own locality -- As I -- toward Thee -- She ...
If I don't write something good tonight I will sleep without the comforting Canopus of deep believers, if I sleep ...
Scene--A spacious drawing-room, with music-room adjoining. Katharine. What are the words ? Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore ; here ...
Verse, a Breeze 'mid blossoms straying, Where HOPE clung feeding, like a bee-- Both were mine ! Life went a-maying ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this ...
What's in the brain that ink may character Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What's new to ...
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this ...
What's in the brain that ink may character Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What's new to ...
'Tis hard to say, if greater Want of Skill Appear in Writing or in Judging ill, But, of the two, ...
Why, having won her, do I woo? Because her spirit's vestal grace Provokes me always to pursue, But, spirit-like, eludes ...
Through frost-thick weather This witch sidles, fingers crooked, as if Caught in a hazardous medium that might Merely by its ...
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