Romantic poems
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The Neglected Wife
© John Kenyon
They tell me that my face is fair,
That sunny smiles are on my cheek
To A Friend
© Joseph Rodman Drake
YES, faint was my applause and cold my praise,
Though soul was glowing in each polished line;
The Pleasures of Memory - Part II.
© Samuel Rogers
Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours.
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
The Four Seasons : Autumn
© James Thomson
Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
The Little Left Hand - Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Lady Marian. Send
For others then. I see a girl at the street's end
Selling some mignonette. What do you say?
(Putting on a bow.) This bow,
Is it too bright for the rest?
Daphles. An Argive Story
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
But the Queen's host by skilful champions led,
Its powers meanwhile concentred to a head,
Lay, an embattled force with wary eye,
Ready to ward or strike whene'er the cry
Of coming foemen on their ears should fall,
Nigh the huge towers which guard the capital.
Imitation Of Spenser
© John Keats
Now Morning from her orient chamber came,
And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill;
Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,
Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill;
The Faithful Friend
© Caroline Norton
O, FRIEND! whose heart the grave doth shroud from human joy or woe,
Know'st thou who wanders by thy tomb, with footsteps sad and slow?
Know'st thou whose brow is dark with grief? whose eyes are dim with tears?
Whose restless soul is sinking with its agony of fears?
Whose hope hath fail'd, whose star hath sunk, whose firmest trust deceived,
Since, leaning on thy faithful breast, he loved and believed?
Ode I: The Remonstrance Of Shakespeare
© Mark Akenside
If, yet regardful of your native land,
Old Shakespeare's tongue you deign to understand,
Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto I
© Samuel Butler
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain.
For one that's basted to feel pain,
Because the pangs his bones endure
Contribute nothing to the cure:
Yet honor hurt, is wont to rage
With pain no med'cine can asswage.
M'Gillviray's Dream
© Thomas Bracken
A Forest-Ranger's Story.
JUST nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shoulders
Elegy (Tir'd With The Busy Crouds)
© James Beattie
Tir'd with the busy crouds, that all the day
Impatient throng where Folly's altars flame,
My languid powers dissolve with quick decay,
Till genial Sleep repair the sinking frame.
The Authors: A Satire
© Richard Savage
"HOLD, Criticks cry-Erroneous are your Lays,
"Your Field was Satire, your Pursuit is Praise."
True, you Profound!-I praise, but yet I sneer;
You're dark to Beauties, if to Errors clear!
Know my Lampoon's in Panegyric seen,
For just Applause turns Satire on your Spleen.
Book First [Introduction-Childhood and School Time]
© William Wordsworth
OH there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Italian Scenery
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto.
Beneath its shade the beauteous Arno sleeps
In vallombrosa's bosom, and dark trees
Bend with a calm and quiet shadow down
Upon the beauty of that silent river.
Italy : 29. Montorio
© Samuel Rogers
Generous, and ardent, and as romantic as he could be,
Montorio was in his earliest youth, when, on a summer-
evening, not many years ago, he arrived at the Baths of
* * *. With a heavy heart, and with many a blessing on
Sonnet LXIV
© Charlotte Turner Smith
HERE from the restless bed of lingering pain
The languid sufferer seeks the tepid wave,
And feels returning health and hope again
Disperse 'the gathering shadows of the grave!'
Religious Musings : A Desultory Poem Written On The Christmas Eve Of 1794
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
What tho' first,
In years unseason'd, I attuned the lay
To idle passion and unreal woe?
Yet serious truth her empire o'er my song
On the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To the Lord Privy Seal
Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
