#EnglishWriters
It is good to be out on the road,… Going through meadow and village,… Through the grey light drift of th… Under the flying white clouds, and… And to halt at the chattering broo…
Oh some are fond of red wine, and… And some are all for dancing by th… But rum alone’s the tipple, and th… Of the old bold mate of Henry Mor… Oh some are fond of Spanish wine,…
Be with me, Beauty, for the fire… My dog and I are old, too old for… Man, whose young passion sets the… Is soon too lame to march, too col… I take the book and gather to the…
We’re bound for blue water where t… It’s time to get the tacks aboard,… The crowd’s at the capstan and the… “A long pull, a strong pull, and w… The bow-wash is eddying, spreading…
Mother Carey? She’s the mother o’… 'N’ all them sort o’ rips; She’s a fine gell to look at, but… She’s a sight too fond of ships; She lives upon an iceberg to the n…
“Goneys an’ gullies an’ all o’ the… They ain’t no birds, not really”,… “Not mollies, nor gullies, nor gon… “But simply the spirits of mariner… “Them birds goin’ fishin’ is nothi…
All day they loitered by the resti… Telling their beauties over, takin… At night the verdict left my messm… “The Wanderer is the finest ship… I had not seen her, but a friend,…
“When I’m discharged at Liverpool… I won’t come to sea no more; I’ll court a pretty little lass ‘n… ‘N’ settle somewhere down shore; I’ll never fare to sea again a-tem…
Oh yesterday, I t’ink it was, whi… I met with Bill. —“Hullo,” he say… We’d red bandanas round our necks… So we filled a couple of Santy Cr… We scooted south with a press of s…
In the dark womb where I began My mother’s life made me a man. Through all the months of human bi… Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor sti…
Long long ago, when all the glitte… Was heaven itself, when drunkards… Were like mazed kings shaking at g… To acts of war that sickle men lik… When the white clover opened Para…
Quinquireme of Nineveh from dista… Rowing home to haven in sunny Pal… With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet w…
Here in the self is all that man c… Of Beauty, all the wonder, all th… All the unearthly colour, all the… Here in the self which withers lik… Here in the self which fades as ho…
Silent are the woods, and the dim… Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in… The apple orchard, is a tired plou… Calling the cows home. A bright white star blinks, the pa…
Out beyond the sunset could I but… Is a sleepy blue laguna which wide… And there’s the Blessed City &mda… The Golden City of St. Mary. It’s built of fair marble &mdash w…