#EnglishWriters #Victorian
PEACE in her chamber, wheresoe’e… It be, a holy place: The thought still brings my soul s… As morning meadows wear. Whether it still be small and ligh…
DID she in summer write it, or in… Or with this wail of autumn at her… Or in some winter left among old y… Scratched it through tettered cark… That round her heart the frost was…
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…
Thin are the night-skirts left beh… By daybreak hours that onward cree… And thin, alas! the shred of sleep That wavers with the spirit’s wind… But in half-dreams that shift and…
Mother, is this the darkness of th… The Shadow of Death? and is that… Infinite imminent Eternity? And does the death—pang by man’s s… In Time’s each instant cause thy…
THIS is the place. Even here the… The unflinching hand, wrought on;… As on that very bed, his life part… New birth, and passed. Yon river’… Whereto the close—built coiling la…
'When that dead face, bowered in t… Which once was all the life years… Can now scarce bid the tides of me… Cast on thy soul a little spray of… How canst thou gaze into these eye…
THE shadows fall along the wall, It’s night at Haye—la—Serre; The maidens weave since day grew e… The lady’s in her chair. O passing slow the long hours go
I WAITED for the train unto Ve… I hung with bonnes and gamins on t… Watching the gravelled road where,… Under black arches gleam the iron… Clear in the darkness, till the da…
HERE writ was the World’s Histo… Whose steps knew all the earth; al… In these few piteous paces then wa… Here daily, hourly, have his proud… This smaller speck than the recedi…
O RUFF—EMBASTIONED vast El… Bush to these bushel—bellied casks… Home—growth, 'tis true, but rank a… What would we with such skittle—pl… Say, must we watch these brawlers’…
Is it the moved air or the moving… That is Life’s self and draws my… And by instinct ineffable decree Holds my breath quailing on the bi… Nay, is it Life or Death, thus th…
Not that the earth is changing, O… Nor that the seasons totter in the… Not that the virulent ill of act a… Seethes ever as a winepress ever t… Not therefore are we certain that…
I KNOW not how it is, I have th… In lazy moods, of seeking no excus… But holding that man’s ease must b… Of man’s philosophy, I give the s… To thought, and lounge at shuffle…
So now the changed year’s turning… And as a girl sails balanced in th… And now before and now again behin… Stoops as it swoops, with cheek th… So Spring comes merry towards me…