#EnglishWriters
My student-lamp is lighted, The books and papers are spread; A sound comes floating upwards, Chasing the thoughts from my head. I open the garret window,
To J. De P. Deep in the grass outstretched I… Motionless on the hill; Above me is a cloudless sky, Around me all is still:
The lion remembers the forest, The lion in chains; To the bird that is captive a visi… Of woodland remains. One strains with his strength at t…
A haunted town thou art to me.<… —Andrew Lang To-day in Florence all the air Is soft with spring, with sunlight… In the tall street gay folks are m…
In the night I dreamed of you; All the place was filled With your presence; in my heart The strife was stilled. All night I have dreamed of you;
Since that I may not have Love on this side the grave, Let me imagine Love. Since not mine is the bliss Of ‘claspt hands and lips that kis…
With fruit and flowers the board i… The wine and laughter flow; I’ll not complain—could one expect So dull a world to know? You look across the fruit and flow…
Where drowsy sound of college-chim… Across the air is blown, And drowsy fragrance of the limes, I lie and dream alone. A dazzling radiance reigns o’er al…
They trod the streets and squares… With weary hearts, a little while… When, thin and grey, the melanchol… Clung to the leafless branches ove… Or when the smoke-veiled sky grew…
The mountains in fantastic lines Sweep, blue-white, to the sky, whi… Blue as blue gems; athwart the pin… The lake gleams blue. We three were here, three years go…
After a Richter Concert. In the long, sad time, when the sk… And the keen blast blew through th… When delight had fled from the nig… My chill heart whispered, ‘ June…
To B. T. Dead-tired, dog-tired, as the vivi… Fails and slackens and fades away.… The sky that was so blue before With sudden clouds is shrouded o’e…
With Apologies to Mr. Swinbur… For repose I have sighed and have… I am held in the Circle of Being… I was wan and weary with life ; my… I was weary of women and war and t…
Believe me, this was true last nig… Tho’ it is false to-day. —A.M.F. Robinson. A fair dream to my chamber flew: Such a crowd of folk that stirred,
THIS is the end of him, here he… The dust in his throat, the worm i… The mould in his mouth, the turf o… This is the end of him, this is be… He will never lie on his couch awa…