Review: Poems by William Wordsworth, John Keats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Robert Burns


House of Bronze is hosting a Romanticism in Autumn Challenge for October-November 2012.

So far I've read the following poems by Wordsworth, Keats, Coleridge, and Burns. 
This completes my poem reading portion of this challenge. I don't believe I'll have time to read both Ivanhoe and Wuthering Heights, but I'm going to try. Look for these reviews in November 2012. 
Where you see a star to the right of the title of poem, consider this a favorite of mine.
My favorite poem above all others is by Robert Burns (listed below), makes me feel romantic just thinking about it!


William Wordsworth (1770-1850). From the book The Norton Introduction to Literature 4th Edition---1973:
She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways*
Scorn Not the Sonnet
Nuns Fret Not
London, 1802
Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey*

From The Best Poems of the English Language From Chaucer Through Frost---2004 by Harold Bloom
Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known*
Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower
Slumber Dig My Spirit Seal
I Traveled Among Unknown Men*
Resolution and Independence
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood*

John Keats (1795-1821). From the book The Norton Introduction to Literature 4th Edition---1973
On the Sonnet
On First Looking into Chapman's Homer*
On The Grasshopper and the Cricket 
When I have Fears*
Bright Star*
La Belle Dame sans Merci
Ode to a Nightingale*
Ode on a Grecian Urn*
Ode on Melancholy*
To Autumn*

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner*
Kubla Khan*
Christabel*
Dejection: An Ode

Robert Burns (1759-1796)                                                         
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

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