#English #Victorians
CHAPTER VIII. The Queen’s Croquet-Ground A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it,...
The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright— And this was odd, because it was
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little ski… By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain prete…
The Milk—and—Water School Alas! she would not hear my prayer… Yet it were rash to tear my hair; Disfigured, I should be less fair… She was unwise, I may say blind;
She’s all my fancy painted him (I make no idle boast); If he or you had lost a limb, Which would have suffered most? He said that you had been to her,
The Mad Gardener’s Song He thought he saw an Elephant, That practised on a fife: He looked again, and found it was A letter from his wife.
Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur “How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once ‘the very wish Partook of the sublime.’
I love the stillness of the wood: I love the music of the rill: I love to couch in pensive mood Upon some silent hill. Scarce heard, beneath you arching…
And with that she began nursing her child again, sin… lullaby to it as she did so, and g… lent shake at the end of every lin… “Speak roughly to your little boy,
As one who strives a hill to climb… Who never climbed before: Who finds it, in a little time, Grow every moment less sublime, And votes the thing a bore:
Blow, blow your trumpets till they… Ye little men of little souls! And bid them huddle at your back - Gold-sucking leeches, shoals on sh… Fill all the air with hungry wails…
The Barrister’s Dream They sought it with thimbles, they… They pursued it with forks and hop… They threatened its life with a ra… They charmed it with smiles and so…
A loaf of bread, the Walrus said, Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed– Now if you’re ready, Oysters, dea…
When on the sandy shore I sit, Beside the salt sea—wave, And fall into a weeping fit Because I dare not shave — A little whisper at my ear
ONE winter night, at half—past ni… Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy, I had come home, too late to dine, And supper, with cigars and wine, Was waiting in the study.