#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
'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…
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now… Nor waves the cypress in the palac… Nor winks the gold fin in the porp… The firefly wakens; waken thou wit… Now droops the milk—white peacock…
Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls Of water, sheets of summer glass, The long divine Peneian pass, The vast Akrokeraunian walls, Tomohrit, Athos, all things fair,
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,…
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.
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
He thought to quell the stubborn h… Madman! to chain with chains, and… That island queen who sways the fl… From Ind to Ind, but in fair dayl… When from her wooden walls,—lit by…
What does little birdie say In her nest at peep of day? Let me fly, says little birdie, Mother, let me fly away. Birdie, rest a little longer,
A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fa… Of temper amorous, as the first of… With lengths of yellow ringlet, li… For on my cradle shone the Northe… There lived an ancient legend in o…
(For Music) What sight so lured him thro’ the… As where earth’s green stole into… Far-far-away? What sound was dearest in his nati…
Dark house, by which once more I… Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to… So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp’d no more…
Where Claribel low—lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose—leaves fall: But the solemn oak—tree sigheth, Thick—leaved, ambrosial,
Who would be A mermaid fair, Singing alone, Combing her hair Under the sea,