#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian
With one black shadow at its feet, The house thro’ all the level shin… Close—latticed to the brooding hea… And silent in its dusty vines: A faint—blue ridge upon the right,
O LOVE, Love, Love! O witherin… O sun, that from thy noonday heigh… Shudderest when I strain my sight… Throbbing thro’ all thy heat and l… Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Long lines of cliff breaking have… And in the chasm are foam and yell… Beyond, red roofs about a narrow w… In cluster; then a moulder’d churc… A long street climbs to one tall-t…
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the se… Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea…
Old poets foster’d under friendlie… Old Virgil who would write ten li… At dawn, and lavish all the golden… To make them wealthier in the read… And you, old popular Horace, you…
. O that 'twere possible . After long grief and pain .
Once more the gate behind me falls… Once more before my face I see the moulder’d Abbey-walls, That stand within the chace. Beyond the lodge the city lies,
How fares it with the happy dead? For here the man is more and more; But he forgets the days before God shut the doorways of his head. The days have vanish’d, tone and t…
The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the l… And the wild cataract leaps in glo… Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild ec…
Of old sat Freedom on the heights… The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoice…
It is the miller’s daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles at her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night,
Deep on the convent-roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour go… May my soul follow soon! The shadows of the convent-towers
Dosn’t thou ‘ear my ’erse’s legs,… Proputty, proputty, proputty—that’… Proputty, proputty, proputty—Sam,… Theer’s moor sense i’ one o’ 'is l… Woä—theer’s a craw to pluck wi’ th…
O that ‘twere possible After long grief and pain To find the arms of my true love Round me once again! When I was wont to meet her
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, Night, has flo… Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted…