#EnglishWriters
The sky is silver-grey; the long Slow waves caress the shore.- On such a day as this I have been… Who shall be glad no more.
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:
(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…
Dead! all’s done with! —R. Browning. These blossoms that I bring, This song that here I sing, These tears that now I shed,
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,
She, who so long has lain Stone-stiff with folded wings, Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings. Brown nightingale, whose strain
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?
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;
So Mary died last night! To-day The news has travelled here. And Robert died at Michaelmas, And Walter died last year. I went at sunset up the lane,
Love, you have led me to the stran… Here, where the stilly, sunset sea… Ever receding silently, Lays bare a shining stretch of san… Which, as we tread, in waving line…
To E.M.S. Here, where your garden fenced abo… Here, where the unmoved summer air… With mixed delight of lavender and… Dreaming I linger in the noontide…
In through the porch and up the si… Little is changed, I know so well… Here, the dead came to meet me; it… The dream was dreamed in unforgott… But who is this that hurries on be…
O say, thou wild, thou oft deceive… What mean these noisy throbbings i… After thy long, unutterable woe Wouldst thou not rest? Fall’n from Life’s tree the sweet…
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…
All things I can endure, save one… The bare, blank room where is no s… The parcelled hours; the pallet ha… The dreary faces here within; The outer women’s cold regard;