#EnglishWriters
AH, London! London! our delight, Great flower that opens but at nig… Great City of the midnight sun, Whose day begins when day is done. Lamp after lamp against the sky
The sad nights are here and the sa… The air is filled with portents an… Clouds that vastly loom and winds… A mournful prescience Of bright things going hence;
My door is always left ajar, Lest you should suddenly slip thro… A little breathless frightened sta… Each footfall sets my heart abeat, I always think it may be you,
‘We’re going home!' I heard two l… They kissed their friends and bade… I hid the deadly hunger in my eyes… And, lest I might have killed the… Ah, love! we too once gambolled ho…
Dear city in the moonlight dreamin… How changed and lovely is your fac… Where is the sordid busy scheming That filled all day the market-pla… Was it but fancy that a rabble
God of the Wine List, roseate lor… And is it really then good-by? Of Prohibitionists abhorred, Must thou in sorry sooth then die, (O fatal morning of July!)
(TO JOHN FRASER) There, in my mind’s-eye, pure it l… My lodger’s vote! ’Twas mine to-d… It seemed a sort of maidenhood, My little power for public good,—
With laughter always on the darkes… She danced before the very face of… Starry companion of my mortal way, Pre-destined merrily to be my mate… With eyes as calm, she met the eye…
To James Ashcroft Noble, Poet and Critic, a small acknowle… unforgotten kindness Inscriptions Poet, a truce to your song!
May is back, and You and I Are at the stream again— The leaves are out, And all about The building birds begin
Simple am I, I care no whit For pelf or place, It is enough for me to sit And watch Dulcinea’s face; To mark the lights and shadows fli…
There is too much beauty upon this… For lonely men to bear, Too many eyes, too enchanted skies… Too many things too fair; And the man who would live the lif…
Songs I sang of lordly matters, Life and death, and stars and sea; Nothing of them now remains But the song I sang for thee. Vain the learned elaborate metres,
Bring not your dreams to me— Blown dust, and vapour, and the ru… Saying, ‘He, too, doth dream, Touched of the moon.’ Nay! wouldst thou vanish see
O little Heart, So much I see Thy hidden smart, So much I long To sing some song