41 quotes
Love, thou hast hopes like summers, short and bright,
Moments of ecstasy, and maddening dreams,
Intense delicious throbs!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Love is like the glass,
That throws its own rich colour over all,
And makes all beautiful.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
I loved him too as woman loves —
Reckless of sorrow, sin, or scorn.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Oh, softest is the cheek's love-ray
When seen by moonlight hours
Other roses seek the day,
But blushes are night flowers.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
And this is Love! Oh! why should woman love;
Wasting her dearest feelings, till health, hope,
Happiness, are but things of which henceforth
She'll only know the name?
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Thrice hallowed shrine
Of the heart's intercourse, our own fireside!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
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)
The lines were fill'd with many a tender thing,
All the impassion'd heart's fond communing.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
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)
And the hall is lone, and the hall is drear,
For the smiling of woman shineth not here.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
They met with cold words, and yet colder looks:
Each was changed in himself, and yet each thought
The other only changed, himself the same.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Then they were silent:—words are little aid
To Love, whose deepest vows are ever made
By the heart's beat alone. Oh, silence is
Love's own peculiar eloquence of bliss!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
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)
How many glorious structures we had raised
Upon Hope's sandy basis!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Death's a fearful thing when we must count its steps!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Oh, all
Know love is woman's happiness.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
It is a gem which hath the power to show
If plighted lovers keep their faith or no :
If faithful, it is like the leaves of spring ;
If faithless, like those leaves when withering.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Delicious tears! the heart's own dew.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
The loorie brought to his cinnamon nest.
The bee from the midst of its honey quest,
And open the leaves of the lotus lay
To welcome the noon of the summer day.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
How I pity those whose childhood has been unhappy! to them one of the sweetest springs of feeling has been utterly denied, the most green and beautiful part of life laid waste.
The Improvisatrice (1824)