To One in Paradise

Thou wast that all to me, love, ⁠For which my soul did pine— A green isle in the sea, love, ⁠A fountain and a shrine, All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, ⁠And all the flowers were mine. Ah, dream too bright to last! ⁠Ah, starry...

To Octavia

When wit, and wine, and friends have met And laughter crowns the festive hour In vain I struggle to forget Still does my heart confess thy power And fondly turn to thee! But Octavia, do not strive to rob My heart of all that soothes...

To my mother

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, ⁠The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, ⁠None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you— ⁠You who are more than...

To Miss Louise Olivia Hunter

Though I turn, I fly not — I cannot depart; I would try, but try not To release my heart. And my hopes are dying While, on dreams relying, I am spelled by art. Thus, the bright snake coiling Neath the forest tree Wins the bird, beguiling, To come...

To Marie Louise

Not long ago, the writer of these lines, In the mad pride of intellectuality, Maintained "the power of words"- denied that ever A thought arose within the human brain Beyond the utterance of the human tongue: And now, as if in mockery of that...

To M. L. S——

Of all who hail thy presence as the morning- Of all to whom thine absence is the night- The blotting utterly from out high heaven The sacred sun- of all who, weeping, bless thee Hourly for hope- for life- ah! above all, For the...

To Isaac Lee

It was my choice or chance or curse To adopt the cause for better or worse And with my worldly goods & wit And soul & body worship it ----

To Helen (1848)

I saw thee once—once only—years ago: I most not say how many—but not many. It was a July midnight; and from out A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring, Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven. There fell a silvery-silken veil of...

To Helen (1831)

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, wayworn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought...

To F-

Beloved! amid the earnest woes ⁠That crowd around my earthly path— (Drear path, alas! where grows Not even one lonely rose)— ⁠My soul at least a solace hath In dreams of thee, and therein knows An Eden of bland repose. And thus thy memory is to...

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ΚΟΚΚΙΝΗ ΓΡΑΜΜΗ

Θέλουν να ξεμοναχιάσουν την Ελλάδα

Η μετατροπή της Βόρειας Ελλάδας σε «χώρο» είναι το ενδιάμεσο βήμα για την εκχώρηση αυτής και του ελληνικού πληθυσμού της σε μια νέα οικονομική...

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