#EnglishWriters
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…
Ever, ever Stir and shiver The reeds and rushes By the river: Ever, ever,
Said Mr. Smith, 'I really cann… Tell you, Dr. Jones’ The most peculiar pain I’m in’… I think it’s in my bones.' Said Dr. Jones, 'Oh, Mr. Smit…
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,
Grief hath pacified her face; Even hope might share so still a p… Yet, on the silence of her heart, Haply, if a strange footfall start… Or a chance word of ecstasy
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…
I can’t abear a butcher, I can’t abide his meat, The ugliest shop of all is his, The ugliest in the street; Bakers’ are warm, cobblers’ dark
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.
Old and alone, sit we, Caged, riddle-rid men; Lost to earth’s ‘Listen!’ and ‘Se… Thought’s ‘Wherefore?’ and ‘When?… Only far memories stray
Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats
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.
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…
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…
At the edge of All the Ages A Knight sate on his steed, His armor red and thin with rust His soul from sorrow freed; And he lifted up his visor
Clouded with snow The cold winds blow, And shrill on leafless bough The robin with its burning breast Alone sings now.