#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Afar away the light that brings co… Unto this wall, —one instant and n… Admitted at my distant palace—door… Afar the flowers of Enna from thi… Dire fruit, which, tasted once, mu…
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…
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
As thy friend’s face, with shadow… Somewhile unto thy sight perchance… Ghastly and strange, yet never so… In thought, but to all fortunate f… As thy love’s death—bound features…
Beholding youth and hope in mocker… From life; and mocking pulses that… When the soul’s death of bodily de… Honour unknown, and honour known u… And penury’s sedulous self—torturi…
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…
By none but me can the tale be tol… The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold… (Lands are swayed by a King on a… 'Twas a royal train put forth to s… Yet the tale can be told by none b…
What of her glass without her? Th… There where the pool is blind of t… Her dress without her? The tossed… Of cloud—rack whence the moon has… Her paths without her? Day’s appo…
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…
A PIPPO Pipistrello Farfalla la fanciulla: “O vedi quanto è bello Ridendo in questa culla! E noi l’abbiamo fatto,
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…
AMBITION, Cupidité, Et délicieuse Volupté, Sont les sœurs de la Destinée Après la vingt—première année.
Christ sprang from David Shepherd… From David King, being born of hi… The Shepherd lays his crook, the… Here at Christ’s feet, and high a…
“SORDELLO’S story,” the Sphin… “Who would has heard.” Is that en… 'Twere not amiss to add, has under… Who understood perhaps has profite… For my part I could tell a tale i…
To—day Death seems to me an infan… Which her worn mother Life upon m… Has set to grow my friend and play… If haply so my heart might be begu… To find no terrors in a face so mi…