George Borrow

(1803-1881 / England)

George Borrow Poems

1. Bear Song (From The Danish Of Evald) 10/13/2010
2. Birds Of Passage (From The Swedish) 10/13/2010
3. Elvir Hill (From The Old Danish) 10/13/2010
4. Elvir-Shades 10/13/2010
5. Fridleif And Helga 10/13/2010
6. From Allan Cunningham 10/13/2010
7. Glee 10/13/2010
8. Lines To Six-Foot Three 10/13/2010
9. Madness 10/13/2010
10. May Asda 10/13/2010
11. Miscellanies 10/13/2010
12. Runic Verses 10/13/2010
13. Sadness 10/13/2010
14. Saint Oluf (From The Old Danish) 10/13/2010
15. Scenes 10/13/2010
16. Sir John 10/13/2010
17. Sir Middel 10/13/2010
18. Sudden Chorus 10/13/2010
19. The Broken Harp 10/13/2010
20. The Death-Raven (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger) 10/13/2010
21. The Heddybee Spectre 10/13/2010
22. The Heroes Of Dovrefeld (From The Old Danish) 10/13/2010
23. The Old Oak 10/13/2010
24. The Suicide’s Grave (From The German) 10/13/2010
25. The Tournament (From The Old Danish) 10/13/2010
26. The Violet-Gatherer 10/13/2010
27. Thoughts On Death 10/13/2010
28. Waldemar’s Chase 10/13/2010
29. Youthful Maidens 10/13/2010
30. Ode (From The Gaelic) 10/13/2010
31. The Elder-Witch 10/13/2010
32. The Hail-Storm (From The Norse) 10/13/2010
33. Aager And Eliza (From The Old Danish) 10/13/2010
34. National Song 10/13/2010
35. The Deceived Merman (From The Old Danish) 10/13/2010
36. Ode To A Mountain 10/13/2010

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Best Poem of George Borrow

Ode To A Mountain

How lovely art thou in thy tresses of foam,
And yet the warm blood in my bosom grows chill,
When yelling thou rollest thee down from thy home,
’Mid the boom of the echoing forest and hill.

The pine-trees are shaken—they yield to thy shocks,
And spread their vast ruin wide over the ground,
The rocks fly before thee—thou seizest the rocks,
And whirl’st them like pebbles contemptuously round.

The sun-beams have cloth’d thee in glorious dyes,
They streak with the tints of the heavenly bow
Those hovering columns of vapour that rise
Forth from the bubbling ...

Read the full of Ode To A Mountain


A sultry eve pursu'd a sultry day;
Dark streaks of purple in the sky were seen,
And shadows half conceal'd the lonely way;

I spurr'd my courser, and more swiftly rode,
In moody silence, through the forests green,
Where doves and linnets had their lone abode:

It was my fate to reach a brook, at last,

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