#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
[Written for the Charing Cross A… Seen, too clear and historic withi… Frown when the Autumn days strike… They of our mortal diseases find n… Errors they of the soul, past the…
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…
The song of a nightingale sent thr… Low-lidded with twilight, and tran… Tranced with a tender enchantment;… That wins immortality even while p…
The clouds are withdrawn And their thin-rippled mist, That stream’d o’er the lawn To the drowsy-eyed west. Cold and grey
I must be flattered. The imperiou… Desire speaks out. Lady, I am con… To play with you the game of Sent… And with you enter on paths perilo… But if across your beauty I throw…
‘Sirs! may I shake your hands? My countrymen, I see! I’ve lived in foreign lands Till England’s Heaven to me. A hearty shake will do me good,
1—I In middle age an evil thing Befell Archduchess Anne: She looked outside her wedding-rin… Upon a princely man.
How many a thing which we cast to… When others pick it up becomes a g… We grasp at all the wealth it is t… And by reflected light its worth i… Yet for us still ’tis nothing! and…
A roar thro’ the tall twin elm-tre… The mustering storm betrayed: The South-wind seized the willow That over the water swayed. Then fell the steady deluge
O my lover! the night like a broad… Bears us onward, and morn, a black… How I shuddered-I knew not that… Till I looked on thy face:- then… Then I felt like a thing caught b…
To sit on History in an easy chai… Still rivalling the wild hordes by… Sure, this beseems a race of lagga… Unwarned by those plain letters sc… If more than hands’ and armsful be…
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…
Maimed, beggared, grey; seeking an… Of palsy doing task of thanks for… Upon the stature of a God, He whom the Gods have struck bend… Weak words he has, that slip the n…
When Sir Gawain was led to his br… By Arthur’s knights in scorn God-… How think you he felt? O the bride within Was yellow and dry as a snake’s ol…
Yonder’s the man with his life in… Legs on the march for whatever the… Or to the slaughter, or to the mai… Getting the dole of a dog for pay. Laurels he clasps in the words ‘du…
