#EnglishWriters
’Tis evening; the black snail has… And gone to its nest is the wren, And the packman snail, too, with h… Clings to the bowed bents like a w… The shepherd has made a rude mark…
O Poesy is on the wane, For Fancy’s visions all unfitting… I hardly know her face again, Nature herself seems on the flitti… The fields grow old and common thi…
When once the sun sinks in the wes… And dewdrops pearl the evening’s b… Almost as pale as moonbeams are, Or its companionable star, The evening primrose opes anew
Stopt by the storm, that long in s… From the south—west stained its en… Haymakers, hustling from the rain… Sought the grey willows by the pas… And there, while big drops bow the…
I would not feign a single sigh Nor weep a single tear for thee: The soul within these orbs burns d… A desert spreads where love should… I would not be a worm to crawl
The wild duck startles like a sudd… And heron slow as if it might be c… The flopping crows on weary wings… And grey beard jackdaws noising as… The crowds of starnels whizz and h…
Welcome, red and roundy sun, Dropping lowly in the west; Now my hard day’s work is done, I’m as happy as the best. Joyful are the thoughts of home,
I hid my love when young till I Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly… I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at… I dare not gaze upon her face
Peggy said good morning and I sai… When farmers dib the corn and ladd… Young Peggy’s face was common sen… When I met her in the morning whe… Her half laced boots fit tightly a…
The passing traveller with wonder… A deep and ancient stonepit full o… So deep and very deep the place ha… The church might stand within and… The passing stranger oft with wond…
I love to see the old heath’s with… Mingle its crimpled leaves with fu… While the old heron from the lonel… Starts slow and flaps its melancho… An oddling crow in idle motion swi…
I saw her crop a rose Right early in the day, And I went to kiss the place Where she broke the rose away And I saw the patten rings
Nature now spreads around in drear… A pall to cover all that summer kn… Yet in the poets solitary way Some pleasing objects for his prai… Somthing that makes him pause and…
Come we to the summer, to the summ… For the woods are full of bluebell… And the crow is on the oak a-build… And love is burning diamonds in my… She sits beneath the whitethorn a-…
_Now_ is past—the happy _now_ When we together roved Beneath the wildwood’s oak—tree bo… And Nature said we loved. Winter’s blast