#EnglishWriters
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,
Far are those tranquil hills, Dyed with fair evening’s rose; On urgent, secret errand bent, A traveller goes. Approach him strangers three,
Dark frost was in the air without, The dusk was still with cold and g… When less than even a shadow came And stood within the room. But the three around the fire,
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…
Speak not ' whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower, Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
Three jolly Farmers Once bet a pound Each dance the others would Off the ground. Out of their coats
Tom told his dog called Tim to be… And up at once he sat, His two clear amber eyes fixed fas… His haunches on his mat.Tom poise… His nose; then, ‘Trust! ’ says he…
I was at peace until you came And set a careless mind aflame; I lived in quiet; cold, content; All longing in safe banishment, Until your ghostly lips and eyes
As I mused by the hearthside, Puss said to me; ‘there burns the fire, man, and here sit we. Four walls around us
It’s a very odd thing - As odd can be - That whatever Miss T eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples,
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…
When music sounds, gone is the ear… And all her lovely things even lov… Her flowers in vision flame, her f… Lift burdened branches, stilled wi… When music sounds, out of the wate…
’Tis silence on the enchanted lake… And silence in the air serene, Save for the beating of her heart, The lovely-eyed Evangeline. She sings across the waters clear
When thin-strewn memory I look th… I see most clearly poor Miss Loo, Her tabby cat, her cage of birds, Her nose, her hair—her muffled wor… And how she’d open her green eyes,