#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
By this he knew she wept with waki… That, at his hand’s light quiver b… The strange low sobs that shook th… Were called into her with a sharp… And strangled mute, like little ga…
A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines
Demeter devastated our good land, In blackness for her daughter snat… Smoke-pillar or loose hillock was… Where soil had been to clasp warm… The wheat, vine, olive, ripe to S…
Angelic love that stoops with heav… To meet its earthly mate; Heroic love that to its sphere’s e… Can dare to join its fate With one beloved devoted human hea…
We who have seen Italia in the th… Half risen but to be hurled to gro… Like a ripe field of wheat where o… All bounteous as she is fair, we t… Who blew the breath of life into h…
Love within the lover’s breast Burns like Hesper in the west, O’er the ashes of the sun, Till the day and night are done; Then when dawn drives up her car -
O briar-scents, on yon wet wing Of warm South-west wind brushing… You mind me of the sweetest thing That ever mingled frank and shy: When she and I, by love enticed,
At last we parley: we so strangely… In such a close communion! It bef… About the sounding of the Matin-b… And lo! her place was vacant, and… Of loneliness was round me. Then…
Where faces are hueless, where eye… Where passion is silent and hearts… Where thought hath no theme, and w… In patience and peace thou art gon… Gone where no warning can wake the…
Two wedded lovers watched the risi… That with her strange mysterious b… Over misty hills and waters flowin… Crowned the long twilight loveline… And thus in me, and thus in me, th…
How smiles he at a generation rank… In gloomy noddings over life! The… Not he to feed upon a breast untha… Or eye a beauteous face in a crack… But he can spy that little twist o…
On yonder hills soft twilight dwel… And Hesper burns where sunset die… Moist and chill the woodland smell… From the fern-covered hollows upri… Darkness drops not from the skies,
Pitch here the tent, while the old… By the old hedge—side we’ll halt a… It’s nigh my last above the daisie… My next leaf’ll be man’s blank pag… Yes, my old girl! and it’s no use…
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…