Date: 1801

A cloud may darkly over one's fancy play

— Burges, Sir James Bland (1752-1824)

Date: 1801

"Some fickle creatures boast a soul / True as the needle to the pole; / Yet shifting, like the weather, / The needle's constancy forego / For any novelty, and show / Its variations rather."

— Cowper, William (1731-1800)

Date: October 4, 1802

"Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth / A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud / Enveloping the Earth--"

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

Date: 1803

Genius may "separate the clouds by error spread, / Till all the gloom is vanquish'd, and the light / Of intellectual day wide-blazing streams"

— Downman, Hugh (1740-1809)

Date: 1810

"Had Bethlehem's star, of humble swains the guide; / Of souls, unclouded with pedantick pride; / On thee benighted, beamed, with friendly ray, / With all the light of evangelick day; / Ideas, in thy brain, had held no dance / Of anarchy, thou citizen of France!"

— Stockdale, Percival (1736-1811)

Date: 1814, 1816, 1896

Ideas are "like the silent Snows, by Winter spread, / In silvery treasures, o'er the mountain's head; / Whose stores, while undisturb'd, each hour decay, / And hue, form, substance, quickly waste away; / But stirr'd, by winds, like words, with action strong, /Each sphere enlarges as it rolls alon...

— Woodhouse, James (bap. 1735, d. 1820)

Date: 1815?

There are "thoughts that dwell /Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell / Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake, / And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake, / When, starting from our slumberous apathy, / We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by."

— Bowles, William Lisle (1762-1850)

Date: 1817

Thoughts may come round us, "as of leaves budding--fruit ripening in stillness" etc.

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1817

"Nor should we pass the secret cell, / Where lonely Science loves to dwell, / Pleas'd, from its lamp, to cast the ray / That lights the mind's beclouded day."

— Combe, William (1742 -1823)

Date: 1817

"The thought thereof is awful, sweet, and holy, / Chacing away all worldliness and folly; / Coming sometimes like fearful claps of thunder, Or the low rumblings earth's regions under; / And sometimes like a gentle whispering / Of all the secrets of some wond'rous thing / That breathes about u...

— Keats, John (1795-1821)