#EnglishWriters
I’m not sorry I am older, love—ar… Over all youth’s fuss and flurry, All its everlasting hurry, All its solemn self-importance and… Perhaps we missed the highest reac…
War I abhor, And yet how sweet The sound along the marching stree… Of drum and fife, and I forget
Saint Charles! ah yes, let other… Love Elia for his antic pen, And watch with dilettante eyes His page for every quaint surprise… Curious of caviare phrase.
(TO MRS. PERCY DEARMER) A poet hungered, as well he might– Not a morsel since yesternight! And sad he grew—good reason why— For the poet had nought wherewith…
The afternoon is lonely for your f… The pampered morning mocks the day… I was so rich at noon, the sun was… Mine the sad sea that in that rock… Girded us round with blue betrotha…
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
Had I the gold that some so vainl… For my lost loves a temple would… A shrine for each dear name: there… Incense for ever, and hymns of gol… And I would live the remnant of m…
(A Prefatory Sonnet for SANTA LUCIA, the Misses Hodg… Magazine for the Blind) We, deeming day-light fair, and lo… Its forms and dyes, and all the mo…
God gave us an hour for our tears, One hour out of all the years, For all the years were another’s g… Given in a cruel troth of old. And how did we spend his boon?
There blooms a flower in Trebizon… Stored with such honey for the bee… (So saith the antique book I conn… Of such alluring fragrancy, Not sweeter smells the Eden-tree;
They took away your drink from you… The kind old humanizing glass; Soon they will take tobacco too, And next they’ll take our demi-tas… Don’t say, ‘The bill will never p…
I thought, before my sunlit twenti… That I knew Love, and Death that… And my young broken heart in littl… Dew-like, I poured, and waited fo… Wildly-and waited-being then ninet…
She bore us in her dreaming womb, And laughed into the face of Deat… She laughed, in her strange agony,… To give her little baby breath. Then, by some holy mystery,
‘This hot, hard flame with which o… Will make some meadow blaze with d… Ay! and those argent breasts of th… To water-lilies; the brown fields… Will be more fruitful for our love…
Morning comes to little eyes, Wakens birds and butterflies, Bids the flower uplift his head, Calls the whole round world from b… Up jump Geoffrey!