#EnglishWriters
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
Grotesque and queerly huddled Contortionists to twist The sleepy soul to a sleep, We lie all sorts of ways And cannot sleep.
Crazed shadows, from no golden bod… That I can see, embrace me warm ; All is purple and closed Round by night’s arm. A brilliance wings from dark-lit v…
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
They leave their love-lorn haunts, Their sigh-warm floating Eden; And they are mute at once, Mortals by God unheeden, By their past kisses chidden.
My days are but the tombs of burie… Which tombs are hidden in the pile… But from the mounds there spring u… Whose beauty well repays their cos… Time, like a sexton, pileth mould…
What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart’s dear granary? The much we shall miss? Three lives hath one life '
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…
My Maker shunneth me: Even as a wretch stricken with lep… So hold I pestilent supremacy. Yea! He Instil fled far as the ut… Beyond the unperturbed fastnesses…
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…
Dim apprehension of a trust Comes over me this quiet hour, As though the silence were a flowe… And this, its perfume, dark like d… My individual self would cling
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,
Sombre the night is. And though we have our lives, we k… What sinister threat lies there. Dragging these anguished limbs, we… This poison—blasted track opens on…
The plunging limbers over the shat… Racketed with their rusty freight, Stuck out like many crowns of thor… And the rusty stakes like sceptres… To stay the flood of brutish men
Lamp-lit faces, to you What is your starry dew? Gold flowers of the night blue! Deep in wet pavement’s slime Mud-rooted is your fierce prime,