#EnglishWriters #Victorian
This sunlight shames November whe… In dead red leaves, and will not l… The day, though bough with bough b… But with a blessing every glade re… High salutation; while from hilloc…
From child to youth; from youth to… From lethargy to fever of the hear… From faithful life to dream—dowere… From trust to doubt; from doubt to… Thus much of change in one swift c…
THE weltering London ways where… And girls whom none call maidens l… Miring his outward steps, who inly… The bright Castalian brink and La… Even such his life’s cross-paths;…
Of her two fights with the Beryl—… Lost the first, but the second won… “MARY mine that art Mary’s Rose Come in to me from the garden—clos… The sun sinks fast with the rising…
I. ST. LUKE THE PAINTER Give honour unto Luke Evangelist; For he it was (the aged legends sa… Who first taught Art to fold her… Scarcely at once she dared to rend…
What thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou convey,—what secret t… O wandering water ever whispering? Surely thy speech shall be of her. Thou water, O thou whispering wan…
Know’st thou not at the fall of th… How the heart feels a languid grie… Laid on it for a covering, And how sleep seems a goodly thing In Autumn at the fall of the leaf…
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…
“I love you, sweet: how can you ev… How much I love you?” “You I lov… And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you c… How fair you are.” “If fair enoug… Your love, so much is all my love’…
Eat thou and drink; to—morrow thou… Surely the earth, that’s wise bein… Needs not our help. Then loose me… Thy sultry hair up from my face; t… May pour for thee this golden wine…
Watch thou and fear; to—morrow tho… Or art thou sure thou shalt have t… Is not the day which God’s word p… To come man knows not when? In yo… Now while we speak, the sun speeds…
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…
What smouldering senses in death’s… Or seizure of malign vicissitude Can rob this body of honour, or de… This soul of wedding—raiment worn… For lo! even now my lady’s lips di…
There came an image in Life’s ret… That had Love’s wings and bore hi… Fair was the web, and nobly wrough… O soul—sequestered face, thy form… Bewildering sounds, such as Sprin…
WITH Shakspeare’s manhood at a b… Through Hamlet’s doubt to Shakspe… And kin to Milton through his Sat… At Death’s sole door he stooped,… And to the dear new bower of Engl…