#EnglishWriters
All winter through I bow my head beneath the driving rain; the North Wind powders me with sn… and blows me black again; at midnight 'neath a maze of stars
Through the green twilight of a he… I peered, with cheek on the cool l… And spied a bird upon a nest: Two eyes she had beseeching me Meekly and brave, and her brown br…
Upon a bank, easeless with knobs o… Beneath a canopy of noonday smoke, I saw a measureless Beast, morose… With eyes like one from filthy dre… Who stares upon the daylight in de…
When all, and birds, and creeping… When the dark of night is deep, From the moving wonder of their li… Commit themselves to sleep. Without a thought, or fear, they s…
My mind is like a clamorous market… All day in wind, rain, sun, its ba… Voice answering to voice in tumult… Chaffering and laughing, pushing f… My thoughts haste on, gay, strange…
The last of last words spoken is,… The last dismantled flower in the… The last thin rumour of a feeble b… The last blind rat to spurn the mi… A hardening darkness glasses the h…
A song of Enchantment I sang me t… In a green-green wood, by waters f… Just as the words came up to me I sang it under the wild wood tree… Widdershins turned I, singing it…
If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; a… A nimble titmouse enter in.
“Once... Once upon a time...” Over and over again, Martha would tell us her stories, In the hazel glen. Hers were those clear gray eyes
‘Who knocks? ’ ‘I, who was beauti… Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn… And knock on the door.’ ‘Who speaks? ’ 'I—once was my spe…
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoo… This way, and that, she peers, and… Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch
Ever, ever Stir and shiver The reeds and rushes By the river: Ever, ever,
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,
Come, Death, I’d have a word with… And thou, poor Innocency; And Love - a lad with broken win… Apnd Pity, too; The Fool shall sing to you,
Bitterly, England must thou griev… Though none of these poor men who… But did within his soul believe That death for thee was glorified. Ever they watched it hovering near…