To Sylvia (Count Giacomo Leopardi Poems)
O Sylvia, dost thou remember still That period of thy mortal life, When beauty so bewildering Shone in thy laughing, ...
O Sylvia, dost thou remember still That period of thy mortal life, When beauty so bewildering Shone in thy laughing, ...
Shrewd winds and shrill--were these the speech of May?A ragged, slag-grey sky--invested so,Mary's spoilt nursling! wert thou wont to go?Or ...
I. Sylvia, methinks you are unfit Sylvia, methinks you are unfit For your great Lord's embrace; For tho' we all ...
Grim king of the ghosts, make haste,And bring hither all your train;See how the pale moon does waste,And just now ...
for Sylvia Plath O Sylvia, Sylvia, with a dead box of stones and spoons, with two children, two meteors wandering ...
RecitativeLet clownish Cymon, in fond rustic strains,To lovely Iphigene declare his pains;Let tink'ring Tom for dustcart Sylvia pine,I sing St. ...
YE peaceful shades! that guard my dear lov'd homeFrom the chill blasts that strip the fading grove,While far from that ...
Sylvia's hair is like the night,Touched with glancing starry beams;Such a face as drifts thro' dreams,This is Sylvia to the ...
Sylvia, methinks you are unfit For your great Lord's embrace; For tho' we all allow you wit, We can't a ...
Dear Colette, I want to write to you about being a woman for that is what you write to me. ...
DAMON. Haste! Sylvia! haste, my charming Maid! Let's leave these fashionable toys; Let's seek the shelter of some shade, And ...
THOSE who in fables deal, bestow at ease Both names and titles, freely as they please. It costs them scarcely ...
Daphne's Answer to Sylvia, declaring she should esteem all as Enemies, who should talk to her of LOVE. THEN, to ...
Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of fifteen, Felt an innocent warmth as she lay on the green: She had ...
Your face broods from my table, Suicide. Your force came on like a torrent toward the end of agony and ...
YON wandering rill that marks the hill, And glances o'er the brae, Sir, Slides by a bower, where mony a ...
for Sylvia Plath O Sylvia, Sylvia, with a dead box of stones and spoons, with two children, two meteors wandering ...
As, when a lofty pile is raised, We never hear the workmen praised, Who bring the lime, or place the ...
A pair of blackbirds warring in the roses, one or two poppies losing their heads, the trampled lawn a battlefield ...
(To Sylvia.) My Love, my Love, it was a day in June, A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon; And all the ...
"O love, lean thou thy cheek to mine, And let the tears together flow"-- Such was the song you sang ...
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