#EnglishWriters
Down where the unconquered river s… One strong free thing within a pri… I drew me with my sacred grief apa… That it might look that spacious j… And as I mused, lo! Dante walked…
(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…
Her talk was all of woodland thing… Of little lives that pass Away in one green afternoon, Deep in the haunted grass; For she had come from fairyland,
To Man in haste, flushed with imp… Of some great thing to do, so slow… The long delay of Time all idle s… Idle the lordly leisure of the sun… So splendid his design, so brief h…
(TO GRANT AND NELLIE ALL… Is it the Spring? Or are the birds all wrong That play on flute and viol, A thousand strong,
Winter, some call thee fair, Yea! flatter thy cold face With vain compare Of all thy glittering ways And magic snows
One asked of regret, And I made reply: To have held the bird, And let it fly; To have seen the star
What shall I sing when all is sun… And every tale is told, And in the world is nothing young That was not long since old? Why should I fret unwilling ears
O rose! forbear to flaunt yourself… All bloom and dew– I once, sad-hearted as I am, Was young as you. But, one by one, the petals fell
To R.K. Leather (July 16th, 1892.) It happened in that great Italian… Where every bosom heateth with a s… At Rimini, anigh that crumbling s…
The Rose has left the garden, Here she but faintly lives, Lives but for me, Within this little urn of pot-pour… Of all that was
Dear Love, you ask if I be true, If other women move The heart that only beats for you With pulses all of love. Out in the chilly dew one morn
The peril of fair faces all his da… No man shall 'scape: be it for joy… Each is the thrall of some predest… Divinely doomed to work his overth… Transiently fair, as flowers in ga…
_Lusisti est, et edisti, atque bib… Tempus abire, tibi est._ Take away the dancing girls, quenc… Golden cups and garlands sere, all… Lutes and lyres and Lalage; close…
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?