#EnglishWriters
The old grey mother she thrummed o… There is a rose that’s ready; And which of the handsome young me… There’s a rose that’s ready for cl… My daughter, come hither, come hit…
Earth loves her young: a preferenc… She prompts them to her fruits and… Their beauty with her choicest int… And makes her revel of their merry… As in our East much were it in ou…
[Iliad, B. XIV. V. 283] They then to fountain-abundant Id… Came, and they first left ocean to… Where underneath of their feet wav… There hung Hypnos fast, ere the v…
What splendour of imperial station… The Tree of Life, may reach when,… His branching stem points way to u… And skyward still aspires, we see… Who sang for us the Archangelical…
What are we first? First, animals… Intelligences at a leap; on whom Pale lies the distant shadow of th… And all that draweth on the tomb f… Into which state comes Love, the…
See’st thou a Skylark whose glist… Quiver like pulses beneath the mel… Deep in the heart—yearning distanc… Wisdom and beauty and love are the…
O nightingale! how hast thou learn… The note of the nested dove? While under thy bower the fern han… And no cloud hovers above! Rich July has many a sky
The old hound wags his shaggy tail… And I know what he would say: It’s over the hills we’ll bound, o… Over the hills, and away. There’s nought for us here save to…
Of men he would have raised to lig… In soul he conquered with those ne… His country’s pride and her abasem… The Man of England circled by the…
A fountain of our sweetest, quick… In fellowship abounding, here subs… And never passage of a cloud on wi… To gladden blue forgets him; near…
Rich labour is the struggle to be… While we make sure the struggle ca… Else better were it in some bower… Slothful to swing, contending with… You point at Wisdom fixed on loft…
(The Death Of Robert Browning) Now dumb is he who waked the world… And voiceless hangs the world besi… Our words are sobs, our cry of pra… We are the smitten mortal, we the…
Cannon his name, Cannon his voice, he came. Who heard of him heard shaken hill… An earth at quake, to quiet stampe… Who looked on him beheld the will…
No, no, the falling blossom is no… Of loveliness destroy’d and sorrow… The blossom sheds its loveliness d… Its mission is to prophecy the fru… Nor is the day of love for ever de…
Full faith I have she holds that… To beauty, Common Sense. To see… With her fair visage an inverted s… Bloom-covered, while the underlids… Would almost wreck the faith; but…