Queen Mab: Part IV. (Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems)
'How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh, Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear, Were discord to the speaking quietude That wraps this ...
'How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh, Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear, Were discord to the speaking quietude That wraps this ...
Dear Anna, -- Between friend and friend,Prose answers every common end;Serves, in a plain and homely way,To express the occurrence ...
Above the skirts of yellow clouds,The god-like Sun, arrayedIn blinding splendour, swiftly rose,And looked athwart the glade;The sleepy dingo watched ...
Now that summer's ripen'd bloomFrolics where the winter frown'd,Stretch'd upon these banks of broom,We command the landscape round.Nature in the ...
Down the sultry arc of dayThe burning wheels have urged their way;And eve along the western skiesSheds her intermingling dyes.Down ...
He lives but half who never stood By the grave of one held dear, And out of the deep, dark loneliness Of a ...
Sweet was the scene! apart the cedars stood.A sunny islet open'd in the wood;With vernal tints the wild-brier as thicket ...
Let's wait till Sunday. On our bread we'll spread some kisses and fresh butter,then feverishly read the circus bills,about the noisy, ...
'TWAS the Pentecost time of tournamentAt the court of high Castile,And the first, among the Spanish knights,Was the prince of ...
GENOA, 1872Two sunny winter days I sped alongThe Riviera's winding mountain way;Scarcely I caught the blue sea's faint far song,By ...
Evening steals on in stillness o'er the heath,Across the blue-green sky and fire-tinged clouds,And silent birds wing homewards; misty shroudsRise ...
For the sake of a weathered gray city set high on a hill To the northward I go, ...
Shall I move the flowers again? Shall I put them further to the left into the light? Win that fix ...
you haven't lived until you've been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb and 56 men squeezed together ...
I crave, dear Lord, No boundless hoard Of gold and gear, Nor jewels fine, Nor lands, nor kine, Nor treasure-heaps ...
While summer suns o'er the gay prospect play'd, Through Surrey's verdant scenes, where Epsom spread 'Mid intermingling elms her flowery ...
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