#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Audley Court ‘The Bull, the Fleece are cramm’d… For love or money. Let us picnic… At Audley Court.’ I spoke, while Audley feast
Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in… Little flower-but if I could unde… What you are, root and all, all in…
That which we dare invoke to bless… Our dearest faith; our ghastliest… He, They, One, All; within, with… The Power in darkness whom we gue… I found Him not in world or sun,
Our enemies have fall’n, have fall… The little seed they laugh’d at in… Has risen and cleft the soil, and… Of spanless girth, that lays on ev… A thousand arms and rushes to the…
King Arthur made new knights to f… Left by the Holy Quest; and as he… In hall at old Caerleon, the high… Were softly sundered, and through… Pelleas, and the sweet smell of th…
Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could… The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman’s boy,
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go,
To—night ungather’d let us leave This laurel, let this holly stand: We live within the stranger’s land… And strangely falls our Christmas… Our father’s dust is left alone
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs… To many—tower’d Camelot;
There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the south that darkens th… Storm of battle and thunder of war… Well, if it do not roll our way. Form! form! Riflemen form!
“Then what is life?” I cried. Fro… Of soul the poet cast that burning… And it should seem as though his p… For he died soon; and now his rest… Somewhere with the great spirit wh…
Deep on the convent-roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour go… May my soul follow soon! The shadows of the convent-towers
The last tall son of Lot and Bell… And tallest, Gareth, in a showerf… Stared at the spate. A slender-s… Lost footing, fell, and so was whi… ‘How he went down,’ said Gareth,…
From noiseful arms, and acts of pr… In tournament or tilt, Sir Perciv… Whom Arthur and his knighthood ca… Had passed into the silent life of… Praise, fast, and alms; and leavin…
Dark house, by which once more I… Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to… So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp’d no more…