#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
The blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven; Her eyes were deeper than the dept… Of waters stilled at even; She had three lilies in her hand,
When vain desire at last and vain… Go hand in hand to death, and all… What shall assuage the unforgotten… And teach the unforgetful to forge… Shall Peace be still a sunk strea…
Even as the moon grows queenlier i… When the sky darkens, and her clou… Thrills with intenser radiance fro… So lambent, lady, beams thy sovere… When the drear soul desires thee.…
Like labour-laden moonclouds faint… From winds that sweep the winter—b… Like multiform circumfluence manif… Of night’s flood-tide,—like terror… Of hoarse-tongued fire and inartic…
Sweet stream—fed glen, why say “fa… Who far’st so well and find’st for… The brow of Time where man may re… Nay, do thou rather say “farewell”… Who now fare forth in bitterer fan…
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…
IN this new shade of Death, the s… Passes me still of form and face; Some bent, some gazing as they go, Some swiftly, some at a dull pace, Not one that speaks in any case.
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…
How large that thrush looks on the… A swarm of such, three little mont… Had hidden in the leaves and let n… Save by the outburst of their mins… A white flake here and there—a sno…
O COOL unto the sense of pain That last night’s sleep could not… O warm unto the sense of joy, That dreams its life within the br… What though I lean o’er thee to s…
Ye who have passed Death’s haggar… Whom trees that knew your sires sh… And still stand silent:—is it all… A wisp that laughs upon the wall?—… Of some inexorable supremacy
DERE was an old nigger, and him… And him tale was rather slow; Me try to read de whole, but me on… Because me found it no go. Den hang up de auther Mrs. Stowe,
Dear friend, if there be any bond Which friendship wins not much bey… So old and fond, since thought beg… It may be that whose subtle span Binds Shakespear to an English ma…
