#EnglishWriters
Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me
Could man be drunk for ever With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning And lief lie down of nights. But men at whiles are sober
Be still, my soul, be still; the a… Earth and high heaven are fixt of… Think rather,—call to thought, if… The days when we had rest, O soul… Men loved unkindness then, but lig…
'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock to… The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer’…
The rainy Pleiads wester, Orion plunges prone, The stroke of midnight ceases And I lie down alone. The rainy Pleiads wester,
The lads in their hundreds to Lud… There’s men from the barn and the… The lads for the girls and the lad… And there with the rest are the la… There’s chaps from the town and th…
In my own shire, if I was sad, Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was so… Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain…
Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he,
At the door of my own little hovel… Reading a novel I sat; And as I was reading the novel A gnat flew away with my hat. As fast as a fraudulent banker
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
From Clee to heaven the beacon bu… The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign retu… And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills a…
Horace, Odes, iv, 7 The snows are fled away, leaves on… And grasses in the mead renew thei… The river to the river-bed withdra… And altered is the fashion of the…
You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover’s say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smil…
O why do you walk through the fiel… Missing so much and so much? O fat white woman whom nobody shoo… Why do you walk through the fields… When the grass is soft as the brea…
Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean