#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian
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
Calm is the morn without a sound, Calm as to suit a calmer grief, And only thro’ the faded leaf The chestnut pattering to the grou… Calm and deep peace on this high w…
Where Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
You ask me, why, tho’ ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till,
THE splendour falls on castle wal… 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…
Our enemies have fall’n, have fall… The little seed they laugh’d at in… Has risen and cleft the soil, and… Of spanless girth, that lays on ev… A thousand arms and rushes to the…
'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now… Nor waves the cypress in the palac… Nor winks the gold fin in the porp… The fire-fly wakens: wake thou wit… Now droops the milkwhite peacock l…
MY father left a park to me, But it is wild and barren, A garden too with scarce a tree, And waster than a warren: Yet say the neighbours when they c…
To-night the winds begin to rise And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl’d away, The rooks are blown about the skie… The forest crack’d, the waters cur…
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild… The flying cloud, the frosty light… The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him… Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Love is and was my Lord and King, And in his presence I attend To hear the tidings of my friend, Which every hour his couriers brin… Love is and was my King and Lord,
That which we dare invoke to bless… Our dearest faith; our ghastliest… He, They, One, All; within, with… The Power in darkness whom we gue… I found Him not in world or sun,
Fair is her cottage in its place, Where yon broad water sweetly slow… It sees itself from thatch to base Dream in the sliding tides. And fairer she, but ah how soon to…
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…