#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
The fight I loved—the good old fi… Was clear as day ‘twixt Might and… Satrap and slave on either hand, Tiller and tyrant of the land; One delved the earth the other tro…
Poet, whose words are like the tig… Sealed in the capsule of a silver… Still at your art we wonder as we… The art dynamic charging each word… Seeds of the silver flower of Eme…
Sore in need was I of a faithful… And it seemed to me that life Had come to its much desired end– Just then God gave me a wife. I had seen the beauty of fairy thi…
Shadows! the only shadows that I… Are happy shadows of the light of… The radiance immortal shining thro… Your sea-deep eyes up from the sou… Your shadow, like a rose’s, on the…
Stream that leapt and danced Down the rocky ledges, All the summer long, Past the flowered sedges, Under the green rafters,
Face in the tomb, that lies so sti… May I draw near, And watch your sleep and love you, Without word or tear. You smile, your eyelids flicker;
(To the Memory of Austin Dobson) Master of the lyric inn Where the rarer sort so long Drew the rein, to 'scape the din Of the cymbal and the gong,
Soldier going to the war— Will you take my heart with you, So that I may share a little In the famous things you do? Soldier going to the war—
Must I believe this beauty wholly… That in her picture here so deathl… And must I henceforth speak of he… Tells of some face of legend or of… Still here and there remembered-sc…
At last I got a letter from the d… And out of it there fell a little… The violet of an unforgotten hour.
The woods we used to walk, my love… Are woods no more, But’ villas’ now with sounding nam… All name and door. The pond, where, early on in Marc…
We are with France—not by the tie… Of treaties made with tongue in ch… The ancient diplomatic lies, The paper promises that seek To hide the long maturing guile,
Away from the silent hills and the… of upland waters, The high still stars and the lonel… in her quarters, I fly to the city, the streets, th…
Your birthday, sweetheart, is my b… For, had you not been born, I who began to live beholding you Up early as the morn, That day in June beside the rose-…
All beauty is but thee in echo-sha… No lovely thing but echoes some of… Vainly some touch of thy perfectio… Sighing as fair as thou thyself to… Therefore, be not disquieted that…