#EnglishWriters
Praise thou with praise unending, The Master of the Wine; To all their portions sending Himself he mingled thine: The sea-born flush of morning,
After long labouring in the windy… On smooth and shining tides Swiftly the great ship glides, Her storms forgot, her weary watch… Northward she glides, and through…
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Irelan… Down thy valleys green and sad, Still thy spirit wanders wailing, Wanders wailing, wanders mad. Long ago that anguish took thee,
The Squire sat propped in a pillo… His eyes were alive and clear of c… But well he knew that the hour was… To bid good-bye to his ancient hom… He looked on garden, wood, and hil…
Past seven o’clock: time to be gon… Twelfth-night’s over and dawn shiv… A hasty cut of the loaf, a steamin… Down to the door, and there is Co… Ruddy of cheek is John and bright…
Boys, are ye calling a toast to-ni… (Hear what the sea-wind saith) Fill for a bumper strong and brigh… And here’s to Admiral Death! He’s sailed in a hundred builds o’…
(After Horace) Let others praise, as fancy wills, Berlin beneath her trees, Or Rome upon her seven hills, Or Venice by her seas;
(Old French) Memories long in music sleeping, No more sleeping, No more dumb; Delicate phantoms softly creeping
‘Hark ye, hark to the winding horn… Sluggards, awake, and front the mo… Hark ye, hark to the winding horn; The sun’s on meadow and mill. Follow me, hearts that love the ch…
(A Lady of Tender Age) Ladies, where were your bright eye… Where were they glancing yester-ni… Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing, Imogen dancing all in white?
By the hearth-stone She sits alone, The long night bearing: With eyes that gleam Into the dream
‘Ye have robb’d,' said he, '… Take your ill-got plunder, and bur… What will ye more of your guest an… ‘Blood for our blood,' they sa… He laugh’d: 'If one may settl…
(After Martial) To-day, my friend is seventy-five; He tells his tale with no regret; His brave old eyes are steadfast y… His heart the .lightest heart aliv…
With sanguine looks And rolling walk Among the rooks He loved to stalk, While on the land
(from the French of Wenceslas, Du… I cannot tell, of twain beneath th… Which one in grief the other goes… Narcissus, who to end the pain he… Died of the love that could not he…