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William Shakespeare: O! call not me to justify the wrong
O! call not me to justify the wrongO! call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue: Use power with power, and slay…William Shakespeare: Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not pressBe wise as thou art cruel; do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express The manner of my…William Shakespeare: In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,
In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note; But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who, in…William Shakespeare: How can my muse want subject to invent
How can my muse want subject to inventHow can my muse want subject to invent, While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar…Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Say over again, and yet once over again
Say over again, and yet once over againSay over again, and yet once over again, That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated Should seem a "cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat it, Remember…John Donne: The Apparition
The ApparitionWhen by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead, And that thou thinkst thee free From all solicitation from me, Then shall my ghost come to thy bed, And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse…Walt Whitman: Ah Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky Retreats
Ah Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky RetreatsAh poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats, Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me, (For what is my life or any man's life but a conflict with…Ralph Waldo Emerson: Nature I
Nature IWinters know Easily to shed the snow, And the untaught Spring is wise In cowslips and anemonies. Nature, hating art and pains, Baulks and baffles plotting brains; Casualty and…John Keats: On Visiting the Tomb of Burns
On the SeaSpenser! a jealous honourer of thine,On Visiting the Tomb of Burns The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun, The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem, Though…John Keats: Why did I laugh to-night? No voice will tell.
When I have fears that I may cease to beWritten in the Cottage Where B...Why did I laugh to-night? No voice will tell. Why did I laugh to-night? No voice will tell. No God, no Demon of…Trending
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