#English #Victorians #Women
The moon is full this winter night… The stars are clear, though few; And every window glistens bright, With leaves of frozen dew. The sweet moon through your lattic…
THE linnet in the rocky dells, The moor-lark in the air, The bee among the heather bells That hide my lady fair: The wild deer browse above her bre…
'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight, All soft and still and fair; The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere… But most where trees are sending
Often rebuked, yet always back ret… To those first feelings that were… And leaving busy chase of wealth a… For idle dreams of things which ca… To—day, I will seek not the shado…
Well, some may hate and some may s… And some may quite forget thy name… But my sad heart must ever mourn Thy ruined hopes, they blighted fa… 'Twas thus I thought, an hour ago…
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun Restored our Earth to joy, Have you departed, every one, And left a desert sky? All through the night, your glorio…
Well hast thou spoken, and yet, no… A feeling strange or new; Thou hast but roused a latent thou… A cloud—closed beam of sunshine, b… To gleam in open view.
High waving heather 'neath stormy… Midnight and moonlight and bright… Darkness and glory rejoicingly ble… Earth rising to heaven and heaven… Man’s spirit away from its drear d…
Long neglect has worn away Half the sweet enchanting smile; Time has turned the bloom to gray; Mold and damp the face defile. But that lock of silky hair,
A little while, a little while, The weary task is put away, And I can sing and I can smile, Alike, while I have holiday. Why wilt thou go, my harassed hear…
I see around me tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps trea… Lie low and lone the silent dead— Beneath the turf– beneath the moul…
The sun has set, and the long gras… Waves dreamily in the evening wind… And the wild bird has flown from t… In some warm nook a couch to find. In all the lonely landscape round
Death! that struck when I was mos… In my certain faith of joy to be — Strike again, Time’s withered bra… From the fresh root of Eternity! Leaves, upon Time’s branch, were…
O, thy bright eyes must answer now… When Reason, with a scornful brow… Is mocking at my overthrow! O, thy sweet tongue must plead for… And tell why I have chosen thee!
I am the only being whose doom No tongue would ask, no eye would… I never caused a thought of gloom, A smile of joy, since I was born. In secret pleasure, secret tears,