#EnglishWriters
The ways of Death are soothing an… And all the words of Death are gr… From camp and church, the fireside… She bacons forth– and strife and s… A summer night descending cool and…
The blackbird sang, the skies were… We bowled along a road that curved… Superbly sinuous and serpentine Thro’ silent symphonies of summer… Sudden the Forth came on us—sad o…
We’ll go no more a-roving by the l… November glooms are barren beside… The summer flowers are faded, the… We’ll go no more a-roving, lest wo… We’ll go no more a-roving by the l…
Bring her again, O western wind, Over the western sea! Gentle and good and fair and kind, Bring her again to me! Not that her fancy holds me dear,
O, gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes… And winter waits behind it! For with the dream foregone, foreg…
Crosses and troubles a-many have p… One or two women (God bless them)… I have worked and dreamed, and I’… Of art and drink I have had my fi… I’ve comforted here, and I succor…
A hard north-easter fifty winters… Has bronzed and shrivelled sere he… Her locks are wild and grey, her t… Her foot is vast, her bowed leg sp… A wide blue cloak, a squat and stu…
From the winter’s grey despair, From the summer’s golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever. Inevitable, silent, unseen,
I gave my heart to a woman— I gave it her, branch and root. She bruised, she wrung, she tortur… She cast it under foot. Under her feet she cast it,
Though, if you ask her name, she s… Being plain Elizabeth, e’en let i… And own that, if her aspirates tak… She ever makes a point, in washing… Handling the engine, turning taps…
Praise the generous gods for givin… In a world of wrath and strife, With a little time for living, Unto all the joy of life. At whatever source we drink it,
On the way to Kew, By the river old and gray, Where in the Long Ago, We laughed and loitered so, I met a ghost to-day,
Behold me waiting-waiting for the… A little while, and at a leap I s… The thick, sweet mystery of chloro… The drunken dark, the little death… The gods are good to me: I have n…
Fools may pine, and sots may swill… Cynics gibe, and prophets rail, Moralists may scourge and drill, Preachers prose, and fainthearts q… Let them whine, or threat, or wail…
It came with the threat of a wanin… And the wail of an ebbing tide, But many a woman has lived for les… And many a man has died; For life upon life took hold and p…