Who is James Henry Leigh Hunt

Leigh HuntLeigh Hunt; portrait by Benjamin HaydonBornJames Henry Leigh Hunt
(1784-10-19)October 19, 1784
Southgate, London, EnglandDiedAugust 28, 1859(1859-08-28) (aged 74)

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James Henry Leigh Hunt Poems

  • Nun, The
    Suggested By Part Of The Italian Song, Beginning "Se Moneca Ti Fai."

    I ...
  • Fairies' Song
    Translation of a Latin poem by Thomas Randolph

    We the fairies blithe and antic
    Of dimensions not gigantic, ...
  • A Thought Or Two On Reading Pomfret's 'choice'
    I have been reading Pomfret's "Choice" this spring,
    A pretty kind of--sort of--kind of thing,
    Not much a verse, and poem none at all,
    Yet, as they say, extremely natural. ...
  • Bellman's Verses For 1814
    Huzza, my boys! our friends the Dutch have risen,
    Our good old friends, and burst the Tyrant's prison!
    Aye, and have done it without bloodshed too,
    Like men, to sense as well as freedom true. ...
  • Robin Hood, A Child.
    It was the pleasant season yet,
    When the stones at cottage doors
    Dry quickly, while the roads are wet,
    After the silver showers. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Love 18 I Love You 18 Sweet 13 Face 12 Good 12 Heart 11 Great 11 Thought 11 Time 9 Head 9

James Henry Leigh Hunt Quotes

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Comments about James Henry Leigh Hunt

  • Roy_wallen: there is no greater mistake in the world than the looking upon every sort of nonsense as want of sense. – james henry leigh hunt, born on this date in 1784
  • Safarov851: colours are the smiles of nature. james henry leigh hunt
  • Cageauxfou: . yet his look with the reach of past ages was wise, and the soul of eternity thought through his eyes. . - james henry leigh hunt -
  • Rebeccaswoverla: “colors are the smiles of nature.” -james henry leigh hunt
  • Kashmironline11: colours are the smiles of nature james henry leigh hunt. pc: madhurnangia photography
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Poem of the day

Charles Baudelaire Poem
Le Poison (The Poison)
 by Charles Baudelaire

Le vin sait revêtir le plus sordide bouge
D'un luxe miraculeux,
Et fait surgir plus d'un portique fabuleux
Dans l'or de sa vapeur rouge,
Comme un soleil couchant dans un ciel nébuleux.

L'opium agrandit ce qui n'a pas de bornes,
Allonge l'illimité,

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