#EnglishWriters #Victorian
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
Airy, Fairy Lilian, Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me, Claps her tiny hands above me, Laughing all she can;
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in… Had made mock—knight of Arthur’s… At Camelot, high above the yellow… Danced like a wither’d leaf before… And toward him from the hall, with…
All along the valley, stream that… Deepening thy voice with the deepe… All along the valley, where thy wa… I walk’d with one I loved two and… All along the valley, while I wal…
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelie… Than all the valleys of Ionian hi… The swimming vapour slopes athwart… Puts forth an arm, and creeps from… And loiters, slowly drawn. On eit…
Old Yew, which graspest at the st… That name the under-lying dead, Thy fibres net the dreamless head, Thy roots are wrapt about the bone… The seasons bring the flower again…
SURE never yet was antelope Could skip so lightly by. Stand off, or else my skipping-rop… Will hit you in the eye. How lightly Whirls the skipping-r…
Below the thunders of the upper de… Far, far beneath in the abysmal se… His antient, dreamless, uninvaded… The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sun… About his shadowy sides: above him…
Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls Of water, sheets of summer glass, The long divine Peneian pass, The vast Akrokeraunian walls, Tomohrit, Athos, all things fair,
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,
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…
“Courage!” he said, and pointed to… “This mounting wave will roll us s… In the afternoon they came unto a… In which it seemed always afternoo… All round the coast the languid ai…
Excerpt from “Maud” She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed;
There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the south that darkens th… Storm of battle and thunder of war… Well, if it do not roll our way. Form! form! Riflemen form!
Now, scarce three paces measured f… We stumbled on a stationary voice, And ‘Stand, who goes?’ 'Two from… ‘The second two: they wait,’ he s… His Highness wakes:’ and one, tha…