#EnglishWriters
‘Who knocks? ’ ‘I, who was beauti… Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn… And knock on the door.’ ‘Who speaks? ’ 'I—once was my spe…
Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Someone came knocking; I’m sure-sure-sure; I listened, I opened,
Sterile these stones By time in ruin laid. Yet many a creeping thing Its haven has made In these least crannies, where fal…
All winter through I bow my head beneath the driving rain; the North Wind powders me with sn… and blows me black again; at midnight 'neath a maze of stars
Now, through the dusk With muffled bell The Dustman comes The World to tell, Night’s elfin lanterns
Who said, “Peacock Pie”? The old King to the sparrow: Who said, “Crops are ripe”? Rust to the harrow: Who said, “Where sleeps she now?
Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on,
What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass,
Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, ‘Mid the verdurous vales and thick… Under the ghost of the moon; And so dark is that vaulted purple
When all, and birds, and creeping… When the dark of night is deep, From the moving wonder of their li… Commit themselves to sleep. Without a thought, or fear, they s…
While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She slanted her small bead-brown e…
Dearest, it was a night That in its darkness rocked Orion… A sighing wind ran faintly white Along the willows, and the cedar b… Laid their wide hands in stealthy…
Flee into some forgotten night and… Of all dark long my moon-bright co… Beyond the rumour even of Paradis… There, out of all remembrance, mak… Seek we some close hid shadow for…
Thistle and darnell and dock grew… And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to spr… In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake,
Come, Death, I’d have a word with… And thou, poor Innocency; And Love - a lad with broken win… Apnd Pity, too; The Fool shall sing to you,