James Henry Leigh Hunt

James Henry Leigh Hunt

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James Henry Leigh Hunt (19 October 1784 – 28 August 1859), best known as Leigh Hunt, was an English critic, essayist and poet.
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King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for ...
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Robin Hood's mother, these twelve years now, Has been gone from her earthly home;
And Robin has paid, he scarce knew how, A sum for a noble tomb
The church-yard lies on a woody hill, But open to sun and air:
It seems as if the heave...
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One day there fell in great Benares' temple-courtA wondrous plate of gold, whereon these words were writ;"To him who loveth best, a gift from Heaven
" Thereat
The priests made proclamation: "At the midday hour,
Each d...
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You strange, astonished-looking, angle-faced,
Dreary-mouthed, gaping wretches of the sea,
Gulping salt water everlastingly,
Cold-blooded, though with red your blood be graced,
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Amazing monster
that, for aught I know,
With the first sight of thee didst make our race For ever stare
O flat and shocking face,
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'Tis well you think me truly one of those,
Whose sense discerns the loveliness of things;
For surely as I feel the bird that
Behind the leaves, or dawn as it up grows,
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There is May in books forever;
May will part from Spenser never;
May's in Milton,
May's in Prior,
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Cold blows the wind, and while the tear Bursts trembling from my swollen eyes,
The rain's big drop, quick meets it there, And on my naked bosom flies
O pity, all ye sons of Joy, The little wand'ring Negro-boy
These tatter'd clothes,...
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Ye brave, enduring Englishmen, Who dash through fire and flood,
And spend with equal thoughtlessness Your money and your blood,
I sing of that black season, Which all true hearts deplore, When ye lay, Night and day,
Upon Walcheren's...
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Green little vaulter in the sunny grass Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class With those ...
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The Deed of Blood is o'er
And, hark, the Trumpet's mournful breath     Low murmurs round it a Note of Death—        The Mighty are no more
How solemn slow that distant Groan
—    O, could
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It flows through old hush'd Ægypt and its sands,
Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream;
And times and things, as in a vision,
Keeping along it their eternal stands
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Jenny kiss'd me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,...
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A Crown of of ivy
I submit my
To the young hand that gives it, --young, 'tis true,
But with a right, for 'tis a poet's too
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Robin and his merry men Lived just like the birds;
They had almost as many tracks as thoughts, And whistles and songs as words
Up they were with the earliest sign Of the sun's up-looking eye;
But not an archer breakfasted Till he tw...
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Robin Hood is an outlaw bold Under the greenwood tree;
Bird, nor stag, nor morning air Is more at large than he
They sent against him twenty men, Who joined him laughing-eyed;
They sent against him thirty more, And they remained bes...
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