PEOPLE'S CHOICE
SEE ALL TAGS & MOODS
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow,
Though thou be black as night
And she made all of light,
So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
On Turning up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands
Escape me?
Never —
Beloved!
What is he buzzing in my ears?
“Now that I come to die,
Do I view the world as a vale of tears?”
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
Shall earth no more inspire thee,
Thou lonely dreamer now?
Since passion may not fire thee
No coward soul is mine
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere
I see Heaven’s glories shine
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored my earth to joy
Have you departed, every one,
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joyes attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry “‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep! ‘weep!”
Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Love in Fantastic Triumph sat,
Whilst Bleeding Hearts around him flowed,
For whom Fresh pains he did Create,
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
