#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
She fell asleep on Christmas Eve: At length the long—ungranted shade Of weary eyelids overweigh’d The pain nought else might yet rel… Our mother, who had lean’d all day
It is grey tingling azure overhead With silver drift. Beneath, where… The trees are reared, the distance… At peace: and on this side the who… For sowing and for harvest, subjec…
The mother will not turn, who thin… Her nursling’s speech first grow a… But breathless with averted eyes e… She sits, with open lips and open… That it may call her twice. 'Mid…
ALONG the grass sweet airs are b… Our way this day in Spring. Of all the songs that we have know… Now which one shall we sing? Not that, my love, ah no!—
Once more the changed year’s turni… 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…
The turn of noontide has begun. In the weak breeze the sunshine yi… There is a bell upon the fields. On the long hedgerow’s tangled run A low white cottage intervenes:
IN a soft—complexioned sky, Fleeting rose and kindling grey, Have you seen Aurora fly At the break of day? So my maiden, so my plighted may
THROUGH one, years since hanged… Who stabbed backs by the Quarter, Here lieth one who—while Time’s s… Runneth, as God hath taught her, Bearing man’s fame to men,—will ha…
The gloom that breathes upon me wi… Is like the drops which strike the… Who knows not, darkling, if they b… Fresh storm, or be old rain the co… Ah! bodes this hour some harvest o…
She hath the apple in her hand for… Yet almost in her heart would hold… She muses, with her eyes upon the… Of that which in thy spirit they c… Haply, “Behold, he is at peace,”…
From child to youth; from youth to… From lethargy to fever of the hear… From faithful life to dream—dower’… From trust to doubt; from doubt to… Thus much of change in one swift c…
The gloom that breathes upon me wi… Is like the drops which stike the… Who knows not, darkling, if they b… Fresh storm, or be old rain the co… Ah! bodes this hour some harvest o…
The changing guests, each in a dif… Sit at the roadside table and aris… And every life among them in like… Is a soul’s board set daily with n… What man has bent o’er his son’s s…
IT’S copied out at last: very poo… Writ in the cold, with pauses of t… Direct, dear William, to the Post… At Ghent—here written Gand—Gong,… We go to Antwerp first, but shall…
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
