#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flow… Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted…
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes
A still small voice spake unto me, “Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?” Then to the still small voice I s… “Let me not cast in endless shade
We move, the wheel must always mov… Nor always on the plain, And if we move to such a goal As wisdom hopes to gain, Then you that drive, and know your…
Sad Hesper o’er the buried sun And ready, thou, to die with him, Thou watchest all things ever dim And dimmer, and a glory done: The team is loosen’d from the wain…
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, So loud with voices of the birds, So thick with lowings of the herds… Day, when I lost the flower of me… Who tremblest thro’ thy darkling r…
YOU must wake and call me early,… To-morrow ‘ll be the happiest time… Of all the glad new-year, mother,… For I 'm to be Queen o’ the May,… There ‘s many a black, black eye,…
Gigantic daughter of the West, We drink to thee across the flood, We know thee most, we love thee be… For art thou not of British blood… Should war’s mad blast again be bl…
That story which the bold Sir Bed… First made and latest left of all… Told, when the man was no more tha… In the white winter of his age, to… With whom he dwelt, new faces, oth…
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,
Written at the Request of the Man… Virgil’s Death Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion’s lofty temples robed in fir… Ilion falling, Rome arising,
THE groundflame of the crocus bre… Fair Spring slides hither o’er th… Wavers on her thin stem the snowdr… That trembles not to kisses of the… Come Spring, for now from all the…
1. Is it the wind of the dawn that… in the pine overhead? 2. No; but the voice of the deep a… the cliffs of the land. 1. Is there a voice coming up with…
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,
Dip down upon the northern shore, O sweet new-year, delaying long; Thou doest expectant Nature wrong… Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded n…