#EnglishWriters #Victorian
How dear the sky has been above th… Small treasures of this sky that w… Seen weak through prison—bars from… Eyed with a painful prayer upon G… To save, and tears which stayed al…
ROBE d’or, mais rien ne veut Qu’une rose à ses cheveux. A golden robe, yet will she wear Only a rose in her golden hair.
“Why did you melt your waxen man Sister Helen? To—day is the third since you bega… “The time was long, yet the time r… Little brother.”
This is that blessed Mary, pre—el… God’s Virgin. Gone is a great whi… Dwelt young in Nazareth of Galile… Unto God’s will she brought devou… Profound simplicity of intellect,
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…
The wind flapp’d loose, the wind w… Shaken out dead from tree and hill… I had walk’d on at the wind’s will… I sat now, for the wind was still. Between my knees my forehead was,—
UPON the landscape of his coming… A youth high—gifted gazed, and fou… The heights of work, the floods of… What friendships, what desires, wh… All things to come. The fanned sp…
Is it this sky’s vast vault or oce… 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…
Sweet Love,—but oh! most dread De… Life—thwarted. Linked in gyves I… Love shackled with Vain—longing,… And one was eyed as the blue vault… But hope tempestuous like a fire—c…
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…
Never happy any more! Aye, turn the saying o’er and o’er… It says but what it said before, And heart and life are just as sor… The wet leaves blow aslant the flo…
THAT voice I hear,—how heard I… Although my home is this, seems fr… There… still it trails along and m… Like the slow death of sound withi… Or like the humming whine in some…
Let no man ask thee of anything Not yearborn between Spring and S… More of all worlds than he can kno… Each day the single sun doth show. A trustier gloss than thou canst g…
Mother of the Fair Delight, Thou handmaid perfect in God’s si… Now sitting fourth beside the Thr… Thyself a woman—Trinity,— Being a daughter born to God,
I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights arou…