Mary Darby Robinson

(1758 - 1800 / England)

Mary Darby Robinson Poems

81. Sonnet Xix: Farewell, Ye Coral Caves 1/3/2003
82. Elegy To The Memory Of David Garrick, Esq. 1/3/2003
83. The Confessor, A Sanctified Tale 1/3/2003
84. The Deserted Cottage 1/3/2003
85. Sonnet Xxx: O'Er The Tall Cliff 1/3/2003
86. Stanzas To Love 1/3/2003
87. Sonnet Xxxviii: Oh Sigh 1/3/2003
88. Stanzas To The Rose 1/3/2003
89. The Fugitive 1/3/2003
90. The Poor Singing Dame 1/3/2003
91. The Faded Bouquet 1/3/2003
92. Sonnet To My Beloved Daughter 1/3/2003
93. Sonnet Xxii: Wild Is The Foaming Sea 1/3/2003
94. Elegy On The Death Of Lady Middleton 1/3/2003
95. Male Fashions For 1799. 1/1/2004
96. The Mistletoe (A Christmas Tale) 1/3/2003
97. Lines Written By The Side Of A River 1/3/2003
98. The Lascar 1/3/2003
99. Lines Inscribed To P. De Loutherbourg, Esq. R. A. 1/3/2003
100. The Alien Boy 1/3/2003
101. Ode To The Nightingale 1/3/2003
102. The Reply To Time 1/3/2003
103. Ode To Beauty 1/3/2003
104. Lines To Him Who Will Understand Them 1/3/2003
105. Morning 1/3/2003
106. Petrarch To Laura 1/3/2003
107. Canzonet 1/3/2003
108. The Shepherd's Dog 1/3/2003
109. Sonnet Xvi: Delusive Hope 1/3/2003
110. Stanzas To A Friend 1/3/2003
111. Ode To Despair 1/3/2003
112. Stanzas 1/3/2003
113. Ode To Envy 1/3/2003
114. The Negro Girl 1/3/2003
115. Elegy To The Memory Of Richard Boyle, Esq. 1/3/2003
116. The Bee And The Butterfly 1/3/2003
117. Ode To The Moon 1/3/2003
118. Stanzas To Time 1/3/2003
119. Elegy To The Memory Of Werter 1/3/2003
120. Lines To The Memory Of Richard Boyle, Esq. 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Mary Darby Robinson


WHEN from the craggy mountain's pathless steep,
Whose flinty brow hangs o'er the raging sea,
My wand'ring eye beholds the foamy deep,
I mark the restless surge­and think of THEE.
The curling waves, the passing breezes move,
Changing and treach'rous as the breath of LOVE;
The "sad similitude" awakes my smart,
And thy dear image twines about my heart.

When at the sober hour of sinking day,
Exhausted Nature steals to soft repose,
When the hush'd linnet slumbers on the spray,
And scarce a ZEPHYR fans the drooping ROSE;
I glance o'er scenes of bliss to...

Read the full of Absence

All Alone


Ah! wherefore by the Church-yard side,
Poor little LORN ONE, dost thou stray?
Thy wavy locks but thinly hide
The tears that dim thy blue-eye's ray;
And wherefore dost thou sigh, and moan,
And weep, that thou art left alone?

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