#Decadents #English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
eipate toi basilei, xamai pese… ouketi PHoibos exei kaluban, ou m… ou pagan laleousan . apesbeto kai… Years have risen and fallen in dar… Ages waxed and waned that knew not…
At the time when the stars are gre… And the gold of the molten moon Fades, and the twilight is thinned… And the sun leaps up, and the wind… A light rose, not of the day,
SOFT, small, and sweet as sunnie… That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes,… Soft, small, and sweet. A babe’s hands open as to greet
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Here, where the world is quiet, Here, where all trouble seems Dead winds’ and spent waves’ riot In doubtful dreams of dreams; I watch the green field growing
BROAD-BASED, broad-fronted, b… With many a valley impleached with… Wherein the springs of all the str… And many a crag full-faced against… The mountain where thy Muse’s fee…
In a vision Liberty stood By the childless charm-stricken be… Where, barren of glory and good, Knowing nought if she would not or… England slept with her dead.
WHITE ROSE in red rose-garden Is not so white; Snowdrops that plead for pardon And pine for fright Because the hard East blows
NOT for less love, all glorious… ‘Sweet enemy’ called in days l… Now found and hailed of England s… Bright sister of our freedom now,… Not for less love or faith in frie…
Had I wist, when life was like a… Light and loud through sundawn and… How the time should come for heart… 'Had I wist’ - Surely not the roses, laughing as…
THE SEA gives her shells to the… The earth gives her streams to the… They are many, but my gift is sing… My verses, the firstfruits of me. Let the wind take the green and th…
Far beyond the sunrise and the sun… Heaven, with worlds on worlds that… Thought can see not thence the goa… Far beyond. Night and day have made an everlas…
I hid my heart in a nest of roses, Out of the sun’s way, hidden apart… In a softer bed than the soft whit… Under the roses I hid my heart. Why would it sleep not? why should…
TWO SOULS diverse out of our h… Pass, followed one with love and e… The stormy sophist with his mouth… Clothed with loud words and mantle… Of darkness and magnificence of ni…
WHEN the fields catch flower And the underwood is green, And from bower unto bower The songs of the birds begin, I sing with sighing between.