#EnglishWriters
Good morrow to the golden morning, Good morrow to the world’s delight… I’ve come to bless thy life’s begi… Since it makes my own so bright! I have brought no roses, sweetest,
Mother of light! how fairly dost t… Over those hoary crests, divinely… Art thou that huntress of the silv… Fabled of old? Or rather dost tho… Those cloudy summits thence to gaz…
What is a mine—a treasury—a dower— A magic talisman of mighty power? A poet’s wide possession of the ea… He has the enjoyment of a flower’s… Before its budding—ere the first r…
Look how the lark soars upward and… Turning a spirit as he nears the s… His voice is heard, but body there… To fix the vague excursions of the… So, poets’ songs are with us, tho’…
A spade! a rake! a hoe! A pickaxe, or a bill! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow… A flail, or what ye will— And here’s a ready hand
An Allegory There’s a murmur in the air, And noise in every street— The murmur of many tongues, The noise of numerous feet—
No popular respect will I omit To do thee honor on this happy day… When every loyal lover tasks his w… His simple truth in studious rhyme… And to his mistress dear his hopes…
O saw ye not fair Ines? She 's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest: She took our daylight with her,
‘Oh where, and oh where Is my bonny laddie gone?’ _Old Song_. One day, as I was going by That part of Holborn christened H…
Ruth She stood breast-high amid the cor… Clasp’d by the golden light of mor… Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
A WANDERER, Wilson, from my n… Remote, O Rae, from godliness and… Where rolls between us the eternal… Besides some furlongs of a foreign… Beyond the broadest Scotch of Lon…
"Coming events cast their shadow b… I had a vision in the summer light… Sorrow was in it, and my inward si… Ached with sad images. The touch… Gushed down my cheeks:—the figured…
O’er hill, and dale, and distant s… Through all the miles that stretch… My thought must fly to rest on the… And would, though worlds should in… Nay, thou art now so dear, methink…
’Twas in the prime of summer-time An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran and some…
She was a woman peerless in her st… With household virtues wedded to h… Spotless in linen, grass-bleached… And pure and clear-starched in her… Thence in my Castle of Imaginatio…