#EnglishWriters
Jagg’d mountain peaks and skies ic… Wall in the wild, cold scene below… Churches, farms, bare copse, the s… In freezing quiet of winter show; Where ink-black shapes on fields i…
While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She slanted her small bead-brown e…
How large unto the tiny fly Must little things appear!- A rosebud like a feather bed, Its prickle like a spear; A dewdrop like a looking-glass,
Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful… That ever was in the West Country… But beauty vanishes, beauty passes…
THERE is wind where the rose was… Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o’er the steep Grey skies where the lark was.
Dearest, it was a night That in its darkness rocked Orion… A sighing wind ran faintly white Along the willows, and the cedar b… Laid their wide hands in stealthy…
I spied John Mouldy in his celler… Deep down twenty steps of stone; In the dusk he sat a-smiling Smiling there all alone. He read no book, he snuffed no can…
Thistle and darnell and dock grew… And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I used to spr… In the blazing heat of the day; Half asleep and half awake,
There is a wind where the rose was… Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o’er the steep Grey skies where the lark was.
Have you been catching fish, Tom… Have you snared a weeping hare? Have you whistled 'No Nunny’ and… Or blinded a bird of the air? Have you trod like a murderer thro…
Flee into some forgotten night and… Of all dark long my moon-bright co… Beyond the rumour even of Paradis… There, out of all remembrance, mak… Seek we some close hid shadow for…
Black lacqueys at the wide-flung d… Stand mute as men of wood. Gleams like a pool the ballroom fl… A burnished solitude. A hundred waxen tapers shine
Three and thirty birds there stood In an elder in a wood; Called Melmillo—flew off three, Leaving thirty in the tree; Called Melmillo—nine now gone,
When I lie where shades of darkne… Shall no more assail mine eyes, Nor the rain make lamentation When the wind sighs; How will fare the world whose wond…
One moment take thy rest. Out of mere nought in space Beauty moved human breast To tell in this far face A dream in noonday seen.