#EnglishWriters
Some starlit garden grey with dew, Some chamber flushed with wine and… What matters where, so I and you Are worthy our desire? Behind, a past that scolds and jee…
One with the ruined sunset, The strange forsaken sands, What is it waits, and wanders, And signs with desparate hands? What is it calls in the twilight -
O, Time and Change, they range an… From sunshine round to thunder! - They glance and go as the great wi… And the best of our dreams drive u… For Time and Change estrange, est…
A LATE lark twitters from the qu… And from the west, Where the sun, his day’s work ende… Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city
At the barren heart of midnight, When the shadow shuts and opens As the loud flames pulse and flutt… I can hear a cistern leaking. Dripping, dropping, in a rhythm,
Trees and the menace of night; Then a long, lonely, leaden mere Backed by a desolate fell, As by a spectral battlement; and t… Low-brooding, interpenetrating all…
Easy is the Triolet, If you really learn to make it! Once a neat refrain you get, Easy is the Triolet. As you see! I pay my debt
O Falmouth is a fine town with sh… And I wish from my heart it’s the… I wish from my heart I was far aw… Sitting in my parlor and talking t… For it’s home, dearie home-it’s ho…
A black and glassy float, opaque a… The loch, at furthest ebb supine i… Reversing, mirrored in its luminou… The calm grey skies; the solemn sp… Heather, and corn, and wisps of lo…
Forth from the dust and din, The crush, the heat, the many-spot… The odour and sense of life and lu… The wrangle and jangle of unrests, Let us take horse, Dear Heart, ta…
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…
O, the fun, the fun and frolic That The Wind that Shakes the Ba… Scatters through a penny-whistle Tickled with artistic fingers! Kate the scrubber (forty summers,
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…
The gaunt brown walls Look infinite in their decent mean… There is nothing of home in the no… The fulsome fire. The atmosphere
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pol… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance