#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
SHE opened her moist crimson lips… And from her throat that is so whi… The notes leaped like a fountain.… Was o’er my heart: as when—a viol—… Having been broken—the first music…
Let no man ask thee of anything Not yearborn between Spring and S… More of all worlds than he can kno… Each day the single sun doth show. A trustier gloss than thou canst g…
Look in my face; my name is Might… I am also called No—more, Too—lat… Unto thine ear I hold the dead—se… Cast up thy Life’s foam—fretted f… Unto thine eyes the glass where th…
Love hath a chamber all of imagery… And there is one dim nook, A little storied web wherein my he… From leaf to leaf is read as in a… One part in the middle of the web…
Think thou and act; to—morrow thou… Outstretch’d in the sun’s warmth u… Thou say’st: “Man’s measur’d path… Up all his years, steeply, with st… Man clomb until he touch’d the tru…
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
WEARY already, weary miles to—ni… I walked for bed: and so, to get s… I dogged the flying moon with simi… And like a wisp she doubled on my… In ponds; and caught in tree—tops…
Love to his singer held a glisteni… And said: “The rose—tree and the… Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to… And golden shafts are in the feath… Of the great harvest—marshal, the…
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in… There more than elsewhere,—is the… The right sown there hath still bo… The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence,… O’er weapons blessed for carnage,…
What of her glass without her? Th… There where the pool is blind of t… Her dress without her? The tossed… Of cloud—rack whence the moon has… Her paths without her? Day’s appo…
O Thou who at Love’s hour ecstati… Unto my lips dost evermore present The body and blood of Love in sac… Whom I have neared and felt thy b… The inmost incense of his sanctuar…
THAT voice I hear,—how heard I… Although my home is this, seems fr… There… still it trails along and m… Like the slow death of sound withi… Or like the humming whine in some…
Chins that might serve the new Je… Streets footsore; minute whisking… Dubbed graceful, but at whom one’s… Knowing of England; ladies, much… Bland smiling dogs with manes—a fe…
ROBE d’or, mais rien ne veut Qu’une rose à ses cheveux. A golden robe, yet will she wear Only a rose in her golden hair.
Not I myself know all my love for… How should I reach so far, who ca… To—morrow’s dower by gage of yeste… Shall birth and death, and all dar… As doors and windows bared to some…
