Who is Mark Akenside

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Mark Akenside Poems

  • Whoe'er Thou Art Whose Pat In Summer Lies
    Whoe'er thou art whose path in summer lies
    Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove
    Of branching oaks a rural palace old
    Imbosoms. there dwells Albert, generous lord ...
  • Ambition And Content
    While yet the world was young, and men were few,
    Nor lurking fraud, nor tyrant rapine knew,
    In virtue rude, the gaudy arts they scorn'd,
    Which, virtue lost, degenerate times adorn'd: ...
  • Ode Ix(ii); At Study
    Whither did my fancy stray?
    By what magic drawn away
    Have I left my studious theme?
    From this philosophic page, ...
  • To The Author Of Memoirs Of The House Of Brandenburgh
    The men renown'd as chiefs of human race,
    And born to lead in counsels or in arms,
    Have seldom turn'd their feet from glory's chace
    To dwell with books or court the Muse's charms. ...
  • The Pleasures Of Imagination - The Second Book
    When shall the laurel and the vocal string
    Resume their honours? When shall we behold
    The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan hand
    Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint, ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Mark Akenside

Love 64 I Love You 64 Mind 58 Heart 51 Power 47 Life 46 Divine 43 Tongue 43 Human 42 Heaven 40

Mark Akenside Quotes

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Comments about Mark Akenside

  • Artsalamode: "different minds incline to different objects; one pursues the vast alone, the wonderful, the wild; another sighs for harmony and grace, and gentlest beauty." mark akenside
  • Book_addict: happy birthday to english poet mark akenside (november 9, 1721), author of "hymn to the naiads" (1746) et al.
  • Conbrunstrom: pleasures of imagination. happy birthday mark akenside
  • Maggiemackbooks: seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, and eagerly pursues imaginary joys. mark akenside
  • Everybrendan: begin the poetical works of mark akenside
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Poem of the day

John Milton Poem
On The Morning Of Christs Nativity
 by John Milton


This is the Month, and this the happy morn
Wherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring;
For so the holy sages once did sing,
That he our deadly forfeit should release,

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