#EnglishWriters #Victorian
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…
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…
YESTERDAY was St. Valentine. Thought you at all, dear dove divi… Upon the beard in sorry trim And rueful countenance of him, That Orson who’s your Valentine?
Love to his singer held a glisteni… And said: “The rose—tree and the… Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to… And golden shafts are in the feath… Of the great harvest—marshal, the…
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…
I deemed thy garments, O my Hope,… So far I viewed thee. Now the spa… Is passed at length; and garmented… Even as in days of yore thou stand… Ah God! and but for lingering dul…
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,—
Could you not drink her gaze like… Yet though its splendour swoon Into the silence languidly As a tune into a tune, Those eyes unravel the coiled nigh…
By what word’s power, the key of p… Shall I the difficult deeps of Lo… Till parted waves of Song yield u… Even as that sea which Israel cro… For lo! in some poor rhythmic peri…
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…
WEARY already, weary miles to—ni… I walked for bed: and so, to get s… I dogged the flying moon with simi… And like a wisp she doubled on my… In ponds; and caught in tree—tops…
Behold, even I, even I am Beatri… (Div. Com. Purg. xxx.) OF Florence and of Beatrice Servant and singer from of old, O’er Dante’s heart in youth had t…
I said: “Nay, pluck not,—let the… Even as thou sayest, it is sweet a… But let it ripen still. The tree’… Sees in the stream its own fecundi… And bides the day of fulness. Sha…
HO ye that nothing have to lose!… Come from the sinks of the New Cu… Did ye not hear the mighty sound b… The Seven Dials strike the hour o… Ho cock your eyes, my gallant pals…
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…