Date: 1825
"Thus, when the fervid Passions cool, / And Judgement, late, begins to rule; / When Reason mounts her throne serene, / And social Friendship gilds the scene; / When man, of ripened powers possest, / Broods o'er the treasures of his breast; / Exults, in conscious worth elate, / Lord of himself--al...
preview | full record— Barbauld, Anna Letitia [née Aikin] (1743-1825)
Date: 1837
"Make Thou my spirit pure and clear / As are the frosty skies, / Or this first snowdrop of the year / That in my bosom lies."
preview | full record— Tennyson, Alfred, first Baron Tennyson (1809–1892)
Date: 1838
"Charm'd by her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade / His clouded mind, and for a time persuade:"
preview | full record— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)
Date: 1839
"A face, the mirror of her mind, Like sky without a cloud"
preview | full record— Pringle, Thomas (1789-1834)
Date: 1839
"A fancy pure as virgin snows, / Yet playful as the wind"
preview | full record— Pringle, Thomas (1789-1834)
Date: 1850
"Imagination--here the Power so called / Through sad incompetence of human speech, / That awful Power rose from the mind's abyss / Like an unfathered vapour that enwraps, / At once, some lonely traveller"
preview | full record— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)
Date: 1850
"Finally, whate'er / I saw, or heard, or felt, was but a stream / That flowed into a kindred stream; a gale, / Confederate with the current of the soul, / To speed my voyage."
preview | full record— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)
Date: 1850
"For though I was most passionately moved / And yielded to all changes of the scene / With an obsequious promptness, yet the storm / Passed not beyond the suburbs of the mind"
preview | full record— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)
Date: 1850
"But these are things / Of which I speak, only as they were storm / Or sunshine to my individual mind, / No further."
preview | full record— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)
Date: 1850
"For I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven / Was blowing on my body, felt within / A correspondent breeze, that gently moved / With quickening virtue, but is now become / A tempest, a redundant energy, / Vexing its own creation."
preview | full record— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)