75 quotes
O no, my heart can never be
Again in lighted hopes the same —
The love that lingers there for thee
Has more of ashes than of flame.
Where is the heart that has not bow'd
A slave, eternal Love, to thee:
Look on the cold, the gay, the proud,
And is there one among them free?
The Troubadour (1825)
Oh! what is memory but a gift
Within a ruin'd temple left,
Recalling what its beauties were,
And then presenting what they are.
The Troubadour (1825)
Beautiful wreck! for still thy face,
Though changed, is very fair;
Like beauty's moonlight, left to shew
Her morning sun was there.
The Vow of the Peacock (1835)
I would not even have him weep
O'er his Italian love's last sleep.
Oh, tears are a most worthless token,
When hearts they would have soothed are broken.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
There is an antique gem, on which her brow
Retains its graven beauty even now.
The Golden Violet (1827)
Love may be increased with fears,
May be fanned with sighs,
Nurst by fancies, fed by doubts
But without Hope it dies!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
It is like love ; oh love should be
An ever-changing thing, —
The love that I could worship must
Be ever on the wing.
The Vow of the Peacock (1835)
Thrice venomed is the wound when 'tis Love's hand
Inflicts the blow.
No one makes the heart of a little home circle entirely their own, without some very sweet gifts of nature — we must love to be beloved.
All over the world with thee, my love !
All over the world with thee ;
I care not what sky may low'r above,
Or how dark our path may be.
O ! the heart has all too many tears ;
But none are like those that wait
On the blighted love, the loneliness
Of the young orphan's fate.
The Golden Violet (1827)
I believe the love of flowers to be as inherent in the disposition as any other inclination.
The early graced of Grecian song,
The fragrant myrtle tree;
For it doth speak of happy love,
The delicate, the true.
The Venetian Bracelet (1829)
How strong is the love of the country in all indwellers of towns !
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
A light compliment was never yet breathed by love.
Ah! love and song are but a dream,
A flower's faint shade on life's dark stream.
The Vow of the Peacock (1835)
I LOVED her! ay, I would have given
A death-bed certainty of heaven
If I had thought it could confer
The least of happiness on her!
The Troubadour (1825)
And all o'er heaven is that clear blue
The stars so love to wander through.
They're rising from the silent deep,
Like bright eyes opening after sleep.
The Venetian Bracelet (1829)
Love is a pearl of purest hue,
But stormy waves are round it;
And dearly may a woman rue,
The hour that she found it.
The Improvisatrice (1824)