#English #Victorians
He play’d his wings as tho’ for fl… They webb’d the sky with glassy li… His body sway’d upon tiptoes, Like a wind—perplexed rose; In eddies of the wind he went
How lovely the elder brother’s Life all laced in the other’s, Lóve—laced!—what once I well Witnessed; so fortune fell. When Shrovetide, two years gone,
I awoke in the Midsummer not to c… The moon, dwindled and thinned to… Or paring of paradisaical fruit, l… Stepped from the stool, drew back… A cusp still clasped him, a fluke…
Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, yo… With your fresh thoughts care for,… Ah! as the heart grows older
When will you ever, Peace, wild w… Your round me roaming end, and und… When, when, Peace, will you, Peac… To own my heart: I yield you do c… That piecemeal peace is poor peace…
Yes. Why do we áll, seeing of a s… Our redcoats, our tars? Both thes… But frail clay, nay but foul clay.… Since, proud, it calls the calling… That, hopes that, makesbelieve, th…
Pure fasted faces draw unto this f… God comes all sweetness to your L… You striped in secret with breath—… Those crooked rough—scored chequer… To crosses meant for Jesu’s; you…
The fine delight that fathers thou… Spur, live and lancing like the bl… Breathes once and, quenchèd faster… Leaves yet the mind a mother of im… Nine months she then, nay years, n…
Earnest, earthless, equal, attunea… Evening strains to be tíme’s vást,… Her fond yellow hornlight wound to… Waste; her earliest stars, earl—st… Fíre—féaturing heaven. For earth…
Tom—garlanded with squat and surly… Tom; then Tom’s fallowbootfellow… By him and rips out rockfire homef… Tom Heart—at—ease, Tom Navvy: he… Sure, ’s bed now. Low be it: lust…
Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, D… Not untwist —slack they may be —th… In me ór, most weary, cry I can n… Can something, hope, wish day come… But ah, but O thou terrible, why…
Beyond Mágdalen and by the Bridge… In Summer, in a burst of summerti… Following falls and falls of rain, When the air was sweet—and—sour of… Those goldnails and their gaylinks…
Summer ends now; now, barbarous in… Around; up above, what wind-walks!… Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, w… Meal-drift moulded ever and melted… I walk, I lift up, I lift up hear…
A buglar boy from barrack (it is o… There)—boy bugler, born, he tells… Mother to an English sire (he Shares their best gifts surely, fa… This very very day came down to us…
Some candle clear burns somewhere… I muse at how its being puts bliss… With yellowy moisture mild night’s… Or to—fro tender trambeams truckle… By that window what task what fing…