#EnglishWriters
Ever, ever Stir and shiver The reeds and rushes By the river: Ever, ever,
What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass,
Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are shinng there, Tossing their lovely dews, Lustrous and fair; And through these sweet fields go,
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
All but blind In his chambered hole, Gropes for worms The four-clawed mole. All but blind
The seeds I sowed – For week unseen – Have pushed up pygmy Shoots of green; So frail you’d think
That one, alone, Who’s dared and gone To seek the Magic Wonderstone, No fear, or care, Or black despair
‘Won’t you look out of your window… Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding… ‘Can’t you look out of your window… Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly… But the air was still, the cherry…
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…
When the rose is faded, Memory may still dwell on Her beauty shadowed, And the sweet smell gone. That vanishing loveliness,
Three jolly gentlemen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed. Three jolly gentlemen
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…
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.
Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats
It’s a very odd thing - As odd can be - That whatever Miss T eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples,