#EnglishWriters
Space beats the ruddy freedom of t… Their naked dances with man’s spir… By the root side of the tree of li… (The under side of things And shut from earth’s profoundest…
Call-call—and bruise the air: Shatter dumb space! Yea! We will ding this passion ev… Leaving no place For the superb and grave
And all her soft dark hair Breathed for him like a prayer, And her white lost face Was prisoned to sonie far place. Love was not denied–
IN THE WORKSHOP Dim watery lights gleaming on gibb… Faces speechful, barren of soul an… Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd a… insidious:
The free fair life that has never… If I were what you seem to be and… I know I walk upon the earth, but… My spirit and your spirit lies, yo… The angels that lie watching us, t…
To sweeten a swift minute so With such rare fragrance of sweet… And make the after hours go In a blank yearning each on each ; To drain the springs till they be…
O tender first cold flush of rose, O budded dawn, wake dreamily ; Your dim lips as your lids unclose Murmur your own sad threnody. 0 as the soft and frail lights bre…
You are so light and gay, So slight, sweet maid– Your limbs like leaves in play, Or beams that grasses braid: O! Joys whose jewels pray
0, in a world of men and women, Where all things seemed so strange… And speech the common world called… For me was a vain mimicry, I thought-O, am I one in sorrow?
In his malodorous brain what slugs… Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, gu… His body lodged a rat where men nu… The world flashed grape-green eyes… To him. On fragments of an old sh…
By what pale light or moon-pale sh… Drifts my soul in lonely flight? Regions God had floated o’er Ere He touched the world with lig… Not in Heaven and not in earth
She bade us listen to the singing… In tones far sweeter than its own: For fear that she should cease and… We built the bird a feigned throne… Shrined in her gracious glory-givi…
A little breath can make a prayer, A little wind can take it And turn it back again to air: Then say, why should you make it? An ardent thought can make a word,
Your ‘ Youth ’ has fallen from it… And you have fallen, you yourself. They knocked a soldier on the head… I mourn the poet who fell dead. And yet I think it was by chance,
Slow, rigid, is this masquerade That passes as through a difficult… Heavily-heavily passes. What has she fed on? Who her tabl… Through the three seasons? What f…