#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
Full knee-deep lies the winter sno… And the winter winds are wearily s… Toll ye the church bell sad and sl… And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying.
LIKE souls that balance joy and… With tears and smiles from heaven… The maiden Spring upon the plain Came in a sun-lit fall of rain. In crystal vapour everywhere
Pellam the King, who held and los… In that first war, and had his rea… But rendered tributary, failed of… To send his tribute; wherefore Ar… His treasurer, one of many years,…
Ask me no more: the moon may draw… The cloud may stoop from heaven an… With fold to fold, of mountain or… But O too fond, when have I answe… Ask me no more.
Comrades, leave me here a little,… Leave me here, and when you want m… ’T is the place, and all around it… Dreary gleams about the moorland f… Locksley Hall, that in the distan…
I send you here a sort of allegory… (For you will understand it) of a… A sinful soul possess’d of many gi… A spacious garden full of flowerin… A glorious Devil, large in heart…
Move eastward, happy earth, and le… Yon orange sunset waning slow: From fringes of the faded eve, O, happy planet, eastward go: Till over thy dark shoulder glow
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…
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…
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…
Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä… Noorse? thoort nowt o’ a noorse: w… Says that I moänt 'a naw moor aäl… Git ma my aäle, fur I beänt a—gaw… Doctors, they knaws nowt, fur a sa…
I come from haunts of coot and her… I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down,
To-night ungather’d let us leave This laurel, let this holly stand: We live within the stranger’s land… And strangely falls our Christmas… Our father’s dust is left alone
As thro’ the land at eve we went, And pluck’d the ripen’d ears, We fell out, my wife and I, O we fell out I know not why, And kiss’d again with tears.