So the two brothers and their murdered man / Rode past fair Florence.
I think we may class the lawyer in the natural history of monsters.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cooled a long age in the deep-delvid earth…
Love in a hut, with water and a crust, / Is – Love forgive us! – cinders, ashes, dust.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art–Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution round earth’s...
Now a soft kiss – Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave A paradise for a sect
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass / Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;/ And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Turn the key deftly in the oil ”¨d wards, / And seal the hush ”¨d Casket of my Soul.
Aí de quando a paixão é simultaneamente modesta e arrebatada!
Virgin-choir to make delicious moan / Upon the midnight hours.
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow and leaden eyed despairs