#EnglishWriters
Last night returning from my twili… I met the grey mist Death, whose… Was bent on me, and from his hand… He reached me flowers as from a wi… O Death, what bitter nosegays giv…
We spend our lives in learning pil… And grow good steersmen when the v… Gap-toothed he spake, and with a t… Sidled to gain the sunny bench of… It is the sentence which completes…
[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…
I think she sleeps: it must be sle… Hangs that abandoned arm toward th… The face turned with it. Now make… Sleep on: it is your husband, not… The Poet’s black stage-lion of wr…
Mark where the pressing wind shoot… Its skeleton shadow on the broad-b… Here is a fitting spot to dig Lov… Here where the ponderous breakers… And dart their hissing tongues hig…
The shepherd, with his eye on hazy… Has told of rain upon the fall of… But promise is there none for Sus… That he will come, who keeps in dr… The freshest of the village three…
His Lady queen of woods to meet, He wanders day and night: The leaves have whisperings discre… The mossy ways invite. Across a lustrous ring of space,
A dove flew with an Olive Branch; It crossed the sea and reached the… And on a ship about to launch Dropped down the happy sign it bor… ‘An omen’ rang the glad acclaim!
Not yet had History’s Aetna smoke… And low the Gallic Giantess lay e… While overhead in ordered set and… Her kingly crowns immutably defile… Effulgent on funereal piled
As Puritans they prominently wax, And none more kindly gives and tak… Strong psalmic chanting, like to n… They join to thunderings of their… But naughtiness, with hoggery, not…
Now the North wind ceases, The warm South-west awakes; Swift fly the fleeces, Thick the blossom-flakes. Now hill to hill has made the stri…
That march of the funereal Past b… How Glory sat on Bondage for its… How men, like dazzled insects, thr… Still worked their way, and bled t… We know them, as they strove and w…
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
Not vainly doth the earnest voice… Call for the thing that is his pur… Fame is the birthright of the livi… To noble impulse Nature puts no b… Nor vainly to the Sphinx thy voic…
Two flower-enfolding crystal vases… I love fills daily, mindful but of… And close behind pale morn she, li… Priming our world with light, pour… Clear water in the cup, and into m…