#EnglishWriters
A True Incident of Pre-Revolu… Now the lovely autumn morning brea… In the crowned castle courtyard th… And the ladies on the terrace smil… To the huntsmen disappearing down…
I will be glad because it is the… I will forget the winter in my hea… Dead hopes and withered promise; a… A little joy from life ere life de… For spendthrift youth with passion…
He comes; I hear him up the stree… Bird of ill omen, flapping wide The pinion of a printed sheet, His hoarse note scares the eventid… Of slaughter, theft, and suicide
The east wind blows in the street… The sky is blue, yet the town look… ’Tis the wind of ice, the wind of… Of cold despair and of hot desire, Which chills the flesh to aches an…
(After Heine.) The sad rain falls from Heaven, A sad bird pipes and sings ; I am sitting here at my window And watching the spires of “King’…
With beating heart and lagging fee… Lord, I approach the Judgment-sea… All bring hither the fruits of toi… Measures of wheat and measures of… Gold and jewels and precious wine;
Dead! all’s done with! —R. Browning. These blossoms that I bring, This song that here I sing, These tears that now I shed,
"Mein Herz, mein Herz ist trau… Doch lustig leuchtet der Mai" There’s May amid the meadows, There’s May amid the trees; Her May-time note the cuckoo
(To Sylvia.) My Love, my Love, it was a day in… A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon… And all the eager people thronging… To that great hall, drawn by the m…
More blest than was of old Diogen… I have not held my lantern up in v… Not mine, at least, this evil—to c… “There is none honest among all of… Our hopes go down that sailed befo…
A Waltz Song. O sway, and swing, and sway, And swing, and sway, and swing! Ah me, what bliss like unto this, Can days and daylight bring?
O is it Love or is it Fame, This thing for which I sigh? Or has it then no earthly name For men to call it by? I know not what can ease my pains,
Now is the perfect moment of the y… Half naked branches, half a mist o… Vivid and delicate the slopes appe… The cool, soft air is neither fier… And in the temperate sun we feel n…
Last June I saw your face three t… Three times I touched your hand; Now, as before, May month is o’er… And June is in the land. O many Junes shall come and go,
(From Lenau.) So late, and yet a nightingale? Long since have dropp’d the blosso… The summer fields are ripening, And yet a sound of spring?