#EnglishWriters
Dim-berried is the mistletoe With globes of sheenless grey, The holly mid ten thousand thorns Smoulders its fires away; And in the manger Jesus sleeps
What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass,
Black lacqueys at the wide-flung d… Stand mute as men of wood. Gleams like a pool the ballroom fl… A burnished solitude. A hundred waxen tapers shine
Ever, ever Stir and shiver The reeds and rushes By the river: Ever, ever,
As I was walking, Thyme sweet to my nose, Green grasshoppers talking, Rose rivalling rose: And wing, like amber,
‘What is the world, O soldiers? It is I: I, this incessant snow, This northern sky; Soldiers, this solitude
Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats
Far are those tranquil hills, Dyed with fair evening’s rose; On urgent, secret errand bent, A traveller goes. Approach him strangers three,
When the last colours of the day Have from their burning ebbed away… About that ruin, cold and lone, The cricket shrills from stone to… And scattering o’er its darkened g…
How large unto the tiny fly Must little things appear!- A rosebud like a feather bed, Its prickle like a spear; A dewdrop like a looking-glass,
Upon this leafy bush With thorns and roses in it, Flutters a thing of light, A twittering linnet. And all the throbbing world
I can’t abear a butcher, I can’t abide his meat, The ugliest shop of all is his, The ugliest in the street; Bakers’ are warm, cobblers’ dark
If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; a… A nimble titmouse enter in.
Grief hath pacified her face; Even hope might share so still a p… Yet, on the silence of her heart, Haply, if a strange footfall start… Or a chance word of ecstasy
Speak not ' whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower, Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,