#EnglishWriters
With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping
Farewell to a name and a number Recalled again To darkness and silence and slumbe… In blood and pain. So ceases and turns to the thing
From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now—for a breath I tarry
The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild It has devoured the little child. The little child is unaware It has been eaten by the bear.
Bring, in this timeless grave to t… No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December thr… Break no rosemary, bright with rim…
“Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die. ”Oh, at home had I but stayed
The half-moon westers low, my love… And the wind brings up the rain; And wide apart lie we, my love, And seas between the twain. I know not if it rains, my love,
Oh stay at home, my lad, and ploug… The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their dr… And all about the idle hill Shepherd your sheep with me.
“Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, ‘Soldier, fly or stay for long.’ ”Comrade, if to turn and fly
Oh who is that young sinner with t… And what has he been after that th… And wherefore is he wearing such a… Oh they’re taking him to prison fo… ‘Tis a shame to human nature, such…
The street sounds to the soldiers’… And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky to sky’s so far,
The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. “I shall not vex you with my face
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough… And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and te…
ow dreary dawns the eastern light, And fall of eve is drear, And cold the poor man lies at nigh… And so goes out the year. Little is the luck I’ve had,
High the vanes of Shrewsbury glea… Islanded in Severn stream; The bridges from the steepled cres… Cross the water east and west. The flag of morn in conqueror’s st…