#EnglishWriters
Set my hands upon the plough. My feet upon the sod ; Turn my face towards the east, And praise be to God! Every year the rains do fall,
I made a little funeral pyre, And on it laid my youthful rhymes, Those thoughts of innocent desire, Dear foolish words of childhood ti… Poor things they were, misspelt an…
What have we missed, we two— You and I—I and you— Of sorrow, and pain, and tears, Of doubt, and of passionate fears, Of madness, and badness, these yea…
Through the rustling river grasses Warm and sweet the young wind pass… Blowing shyly soft caresses To their dewy emerald tresses. All along the silver sands
Pale depth of sky, serene and wond… Within whose fold the lamps of ear… Shine far away and faintly luminou… Whose pensive tones merge from the… Into this colour indescribable ;
A GLORY is this autumn day. That stretches far across the land… To where the sea along the sand Sings kindly, with a gentle lay Upon its lips. The gleam and sway
Ah! why have I built my Castle On the shifting golden sand? On the shores of the hungry ocean Instead of the safe highland? I ask myself, and I answer
Ring on! Oh endless vesper bell! What can you know of that deep He… Upon this Earth, where men may dw… Ring on! Your calling is in vain, What holy rite can lull the pain
The Moon looked in at the window, And smiled as I wrote to you, She lay like a frail white maiden, In shadowy folds of blue. Her bosom was bare and tender,
Along the hills the olives grow. And almonds bloom in early Spring… And many are the streams that flow… And countless are the birds that s… The air is cool with distant snow,
If at some future day we two shoul… Stand face to face before the star… And pull from Love’s dead form th… That time has wound about from hea… I scarcely know what words would c…
Oh! the wind among the trees, How it stirs their wood to song! Little whispered melodies. All the winding road along. Was there ever such a sound,
Can nothing last? No deep, intense emotion? Have all things passed, Can nothing last? ‘Yes,’ sighs the wind,
This is the Sabbath day, the day… That breathes so gently in this qu… With such insistent peace that for… The silver olives on the mountain’… Forget to whisper, folded in the g…
Upon a Sunday afternoon, When no one else was by, The httle girl from Hanley way. She came and walked with I. We climbed nigh to the Beacon top…