#EnglishWriters #Victorian
(To M.F.R.) SISTER, first shake we off the… Upon our feet, lest it defile the… Inscriptured, covering their sacre… Who lie i’ the aisles which keep t…
NON NOI PITTORI! God of Nat… If these, not we! Be it not said,… Of us goes hence: “As these did,… His feet sought out their footprin… Because, dear God! the flesh Thou…
This is her picture as she was: It seems a thing to wonder on, As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when myself am gone. I gaze until she seems to stir,—
Each hour until we meet is as a bi… That wings from far his gradual wa… The rustling covert of my soul,—hi… Still loudlier trilled through lea… But at the hour of meeting, a clea…
I LOOKED and saw your eyes In the shadow of your hair, As a traveller sees the stream In the shadow of the wood; And I said, “My faint heart sighs…
Sometimes I fain would find in th… That I might love thee still in s… Yet how should our Lord Love curt… Thy perfect praise whom most he wo… Alas! he can but make my heart’s l…
What shall be said of this embattl… And armèd occupation of this night By all thy foes beleaguered,—now w… Nor sound denotes the loved one fa… Of these thy vanquished hours what…
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…
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…
LO the twelfth year—the wedding—f… With years for months—and lo the b… Out of the womb’s rank furnace cas… And with contagious effluence seam… To hail this birth, what fiery ton…
In a dull swiftness we are carried… With bodies left at sway and shaki… The wind has ceased, or is a feebl… Warm in the sun. The leaves are n… From yesterday’s dense rain. All,…
Lazy laughing languid Jenny, Fond of a kiss and fond of a guine… Whose head upon my knee to—night Rests for a while, as if grown lig… With all our dances and the sound
18th November 1852 “VICTORY!” So once more the cry must be. Duteous mourning we fulfil In God’s name; but by God’s will,
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…
“Messieurs, le Dieu des peintres”… 'Twas Rubens, sculptured. A mean… Was the next thing we saw,—from va… His drivel. The museum: as we tro… Its steps, his bust held us at bay…