#EnglishWriters
Should I long that dark were fair… Lacks my love aught that I should… Dark the night with breath all flo… And tender broken voice that fills With ravishment the list’ning hour…
I cannot choose but think upon the… When our two lives grew like two b… At lightest thrill from the bee’s… Because the one so near the other… He was the elder and a little man
Oh, may I join the choir invisibl… Of those immortal dead who live ag… In minds made better by their pres… In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in s…
Every soul that touches yours— Be it the slightest contact— Get there from some good; Some little grace; one kindly thou… One aspiration yet unfelt;
If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have d… And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who he…
What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life—to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to ea...
Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together t… Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing… O budding time!
You love the roses - so do I. I w… The sky would rain down roses, as… From off the shaken bush. Why wil… Then all the valley would be pink… And soft to tread on. They would…
The world is great! The birds fly from me; The stars are golden fruit Upon a tree All out of reach
Your soul was lifted by the wings… Hearing the master of the violin: You praised him, praised the great… Who made that fine Chaconne; but… Of old Antonio Stradivari? –him
The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the… For view there are the houses oppo… Cutting the sky with one long line… Like solid fog: far as the eye can… Monotony of surface & of form
Spring comes hither Buds the rose . . . Roses wither Sweet spring goes . . . O ja là
Warm whisp’ring through the slende… Came to me a gentle sound, Whis’pring of a secret found In the clear sunshine ‘mid the gol… Said it was sleeping for me in the…
Day is dying! Float, o song, Down the westward river, Requiem chanting to the Day, Day, the mighty giver! Pierced by shafts of Time he blee…
“La noche buena se viene, La noche buena se va, Y nosotros nos iremos Y no volveremos mas.” —Old Villancico.