#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Under the arch of Life, where lov… Terror and mystery, guard her shri… Beauty enthroned; and though her g… I drew it in as simply as my breat… Hers are the eyes which, over and…
At length their long kiss severed,… And as the last slow sudden drops… From sparkling eaves when all the… So singly flagged the pulses of ea… Their bosoms sundered, with the op…
God said, Let there be light; and… Then heard we sounds as though the… And the Earth’s angel cried upon… We saw priests fall together and t… And covered in the dust from the s…
Have you not noted, in some family Where two were born of a first mar… How still they own their gracious… And nursed on the forgotten breast… How to their father’s children the…
HONEY—FLOWERS to the honey—c… And the honey—bee’s from home. A honey—comb and a honey—flower, And the bee shall have his hour. A honeyed heart for the honey—comb…
TILL dawn the wind drove round m… And still, and leaves the air to l… And to the quiet that is almost he… Of the new—risen day, as yet bound… In the first warmth of sunrise. W…
October, and eleven after dark: Both mist and night. Among us in… Packed heat on which the windows h… Our backs unto the motion—Hunt’s… The last lamps of the Paris Stati…
It was Lilith the wife of Adam: (Sing Eden Bower!) Not a drop of her blood was human, But she was made like a soft sweet… Lilith stood on the skirts of Ede…
By thine own tears thy song must t… O Singer! Magic mirror thou hast… Except thy manifest heart; and sav… Anguish or ardour, else no amulet. Cisterned in Pride, verse is the…
THE hop—shop is shut up: the nigh… Here, early, Collinson this eveni… “Into the gulfs of sleep”; and De… Has turned upon the pivot of his c… The whole of this night long; and…
As one who, groping in a narrow st… Hath a strong sound of bells upon… Which, being at a distance off, ap… Quite close to him because of the… So with this France. She stumbles…
Not in thy body is thy life at all But in this lady’s lips and hands… Through these she yields thee life… What else were sorrow’s servant an… Look on thyself without her, and r…
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…
(In the Academy of Bruges) MYSTERY: God, man’s life, born… Of woman. There abideth on her br… The ended pang of knowledge, the w… Is calm assured. Since first her…
18th November 1852 “VICTORY!” So once more the cry must be. Duteous mourning we fulfil In God’s name; but by God’s will,