The Wreck Of The Birkenhead, (Frances Anne Kemble Poems)
A BRITISH TRANSPORT VESSEL LOST ON THE COAST OF AFRICA.A BALLAD. As well as I am able, I'll relate ...
A BRITISH TRANSPORT VESSEL LOST ON THE COAST OF AFRICA.A BALLAD. As well as I am able, I'll relate ...
Many a league of salt sea rolls Between us, yet I think our souls, Dear friend, are still ...
Death and I, On a hill so high, Stood side by side: And we saw below, ...
The blossoms hang again upon the tree, As when with their sweet breath they greeted me Against my ...
Thou comest not in sober guise, In mellow cloak of russet clad- Thine are no melancholy skies, ...
Round thy steep castle walls, Who seeks thy love must ride, Who from their dizzy summit falls, ...
The Lord's son stood at the clear spring head, The May on the other side, "And stretch me ...
One river from the mountain springs was born, Into three several streams its course was torn. For one ...
Farewell awhile, beautiful Italy! My lonely bark is launched upon the sea That clasps thy shore, and the ...
Thou little star, that in the purple clouds Hang'st, like a dewdrop, in a violet bed; First gem ...
What recks the sun how weep the heavy flowers All the sad night, when he is far away? ...
Why art thou weeping Over the happy, happy dead, Who are gone away, From this life of ...
ON READING WITH DIFFICULTY SOME OF SCHILLER'S EARLY LOVE POEMS. When of thy loves, and happy heavenly dreams ...
What was thine errand here? Thy beauty was more exquisite than aught That from this marr?d earth ...
Rest, warrior, rest! thine hour is past,- Thy longest war-whoop, and thy last, Still rings upon the rushing ...
WHO FELL FROM A PRECIPICE INTO A MOUNTAIN TORRENT. What said to thee those angels terrible, Whose sudden ...
Mother, mother! my heart is wild, Hold me upon your bosom dear, Do not frown on your own poor child, ...
Lady, sweet lady, I behold thee yet, With thy pale brow, brown eyes, and solemn air, And billowy ...
I would I might be with thee, when the year Begins to wane, and that thou walk'st alone ...
WEEPING BY SHELLEY'S GRAVE IN THE PROTESTANT CEMETERY OF ROME. Lur'd by the Siren's summer song to death, ...
Oh weary, weary world! how full thou art Of sin, of sorrow, and all evil things! In thy ...
If thou wert standing by yon tide, And I were standing by thy side, Methinks a death I ...
If I believed in death, how sweet a bed For such a blessed slumber could I find, Beneath ...
Let me not die for ever! when I'm laid In the cold earth; but let my memory Live ...
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