#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
THE head and hands of murdered C… Above his seat high in the Forum… Drew jeers and burning tears. Whe… Of a swift—mounted ladder, all agl… Fluvia, Mark Antony’s shameless w…
“THE silver cord is loosed,” he s… “The golden bowl is broken; A few more prayers having been pra… A few more love—words spoken, I shall turn my face unto the wall…
THE shadows fall along the wall, It’s night at Haye—la—Serre; The maidens weave since day grew e… The lady’s in her chair. O passing slow the long hours go
LEAVES and rain and the days of… (Water—willow and wellaway,) All these fall, and my soul gives… And she is hence who once was here… (With a wind blown night and day.)
Look in my face; my name is Might… I am also call’d No—more, Too—lat… Unto thine ear I hold the dead—se… Cast up thy Life’s foam—fretted f… Unto thine eyes the glass where th…
The gloom that breathes upon me wi… Is like the drops which strike the… Who knows not, darkling, if they b… Fresh storm, or be old rain the co… Ah! bodes this hour some harvest o…
SHE knew it not:—most perfect pai… To learn: this too she knew not.… For me, calm hers, as from the fir… 'Twas but another bubble burst Upon the curdling draught of life,…
ONE scarce would think that we ca… Who used, in those first childish… With held breath through the under… Outside into the sun. Since this… Took me unto itself, the joy which…
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…
Around the vase of Life at your s… He has not crept, but turned it wi… And all its sides already understa… There, girt, one breathes alert fo… Whose road runs far by sands and f…
When do I see thee most, beloved… When in the light the spirits of m… Before thy face, their altar, sole… The worship of that Love through… Or when in the dusk hours, (we two…
Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,
First Snow, February WOOLNER, to—night it snows for… Our feet know well the path where… Mine leave one track: how all the… Are hoary in the long—unwonted rim…
Of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, it… (The witch he loved before the gif… That, ere the snake’s, her sweet t… And her enchanted hair was the fir… And still she sits, young while th…
WAVING whispering trees, What do you say to the breeze And what says the breeze to you? ‘Mid passing souls ill at ease, Moving murmuring trees,
