#EnglishWriters
Kisses are long forgotten of this… Kisses and words-the sweet small p… That run before the Lord of Love:… Touch of the hand, and feasting of… All tendrilled sweets that blossom…
I will walk down to the valley And lay my head in her breast, Where are two white doves, The Queen of Love’s, In a silken nest;
My head is at your feet, Two Cytherean doves, The same, O cruel sweet, As were the Queen of Love’s; They brush my dreaming brows
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
Dear Heart, what thing may symbol… A love like ours, what gift, whate… Hold more significance 'twixt thee… Than paltry words a truth miraculo… Or the poor signs that in astronom…
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,
Noon like a naked sword lies on th… Heavy with gold, and Time itself… The little stream, too indolent to… Loiters below the cloudy willow bo… That build amid the glare a shadow…
_Illius est nobis lege colendus am… On her own terms, O lover, must t… The heart’s beloved: be she kind,… Cruel, expect no more; not for thy… But for the fire in thee that melt…
Wild bird, I stole you from your… And cannot find your nest again; To hear you chirp a little while I wrung your mother’s heart with p… And here you sit and droop and die…
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?
‘Yes, Sir, she’s gone at last-'tw… We heard her sigh from her corner,… We were all just busy on breakfast… Had just gone into the larder-but… Right up in the garret, sir, for i…
Art was a palace once, things grea… And strong and holy, found a templ… Now ’tis a lazar-house of leprous… O shall me hear an English song a… Still English larks mount in the…
‘Alice, Alice, put on your things… The birds are calling, the church… The sun is shining, and I am here… Waiting—and waiting—for you, my de… Alice, Alice, doff your gown of n…
In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago– I found, and then I lost the plac… So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below.
The loveliest face! I turned to h… Shut in 'mid savage rocks and tree… ’Twas in the May-time of the year… And our two hearts were filled wit… And pointed where a wild-rose grew…