#EnglishWriters
To commemorate the virtue of Homo… Love, that in a tear was drown’d, Lives revived by a tear. Stella heard them mourn around Love that in a tear was drown’d,
O pastoral heart of England! like… Of green days telling with a quiet… O wave into the sunset flowing cal… O tirèd lark descending on the whe… Lies it all peace beyond the weste…
Adown the torturing mile of street I mark him come and go, Thread in and out with tireless fe… The crossings to and fro; A soul that treads without retreat
In youth I dreamed, as other yout… Of love, and thrummed an amateur g… To verses of my own,'a stout att… To hold communion with the Evenin… I wrote a sonnet, rhymed it, made…
Do I sleep? Do I dream? Am I hoaxed by a scout? Are things what they seem, Or is Sophists about? Is our 'to ti en einai’ a failure,…
NOW ponder well, you parents dear… These words which I shall write; A doleful story you shall hear, In time brought forth to light. A gentleman of good account
I. THE SOLDIER (Roumanian) When winter trees bestrew the path… Still to the twig a leaf or twain Will cling and weep, not Winter’s…
Tune—Luther’s Chorale ‘Ein’ feste burg ist unser Gott’ Of old our City hath renown. Of God are her foundations, Wherein this day a King we crown
By W—ll—m C—wp—r. ’Tis evening. See with its resort… Rude Carfax teems, and waistcoats… With too-familiar elbow, swell the… Vortiginous. The boating man retu…
After W. M. P. Dear Kitty, At length the term’s ending; I 'm in for my Schools in a week; And the time that at present I’m…
Nay, more than violets These thoughts of thine, friend! Rather thy reedy brook— Taw’s tributary— At midnight murmuring,
By the late W. W. (of H.M. Inla… And is it so? Can Folly stalk And aim her unrespecting darts In shades where grave Professors… And Bachelors of Arts?
After C. S. C. When the hunter-star Orion (Or, it may be, Charles his Wain) Tempts the tiny elves to try on All their little tricks again;
IF a leaf rustled, she would star… And yet she died, a year ago. How had so frail a thing the heart To journey where she trembled so? And do they turn and turn in frigh…
E. W. B. Archbishop of Canterbury: sometim… of Truro. October 1896 The Church’s outpost on a neck of… By ebb of faith the foremost left…