#EnglishWriters #Victorian
I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and fa… No lower life that earth’s embrace May breed with him, can fright my… Eternal process moving on,
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,
When on my bed the moonlight falls… I know that in thy place of rest By that broad water of the west, There comes a glory on the walls: Thy marble bright in dark appears,
The wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave, Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul? Are God and Nature then at strife…
Old warder of these buried bones, And answering now my random stroke With fruitful cloud and living smo… Dark yew, that graspest at the sto… And dippest toward the dreamless h…
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,
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,
It little profits that an idle kin… By this still hearth, among these… Match’d with an aged wife, I mete… Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, a…
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…
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
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, an… Turn thy wild wheel thro’ sunshine… Thy wheel and thee we neither love… Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel wit… With that wild wheel we go not up…
Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls Of water, sheets of summer glass, The long divine Peneian pass, The vast Akrokeraunian walls, Tomohrit, Athos, all things fair,
The path by which we twain did go, Which led by tracts that pleased u… Thro’ four sweet years arose and f… From flower to flower, from snow t… And we with singing cheer’d the wa…
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…
Thy voice is heard thro’ rolling d… That beat to battle where he stand… Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow,