#EnglishWriters
Art is a gipsy, Fickle as fair, Good to kiss and flirt with, But marry—if you dare!
O golden day! O silver night! That brought my own true love at l… Ah, wilt thou drop from out our si… And drown within the past? One wave, no more, in life’s wide…
You bear a flower in your hand, You softly take it through the air… Lest it should be too roughly fann… And break and fall, for all your c… Love is like that, the lightest br…
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…
My eye upon your eyes— So was I born, One far-off day in Paradise, A summer morn; I had not lived till then,
My dryad hath her hiding place Among ten thousand trees. She flies to cover At step of a lover, And where to find her lovely face
Dear wife, there is no word in all… But unto thee belongs: Though I indeed before our true d… Mistook thy star in many a wanderi… Singing to thee in many a fair dis…
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!)
I see fair women all the day, They pass and pass-and go; I almost dream that they are shade… Within a shadow-show. Their beauty lays no hand on me,
All the flowers cannot weave A garland worthy of your hair, Not a bird in the four winds Can sing of you that is so fair. Only the spheres can sing of you;
She failed me at the tryst: All the long afternoon The golden day went by, Until the rising moon; But, as I waited on,
Spake the Lord Christ-'I will ar… It seemed a saying void and vain– How shall a dead man rise again!- Vain as our tears, vain as our cri… Not one of all the little band
I read there is a man who sits apa… A sort of human spider in his den, Who meditates upon a fearful art— The swiftest way to slay his fello… Behind a mask of glass he dreams h…
And is it true indeed, and must yo… Set out alone across that moorland… No love avail, though we have love… No voice have any power to call yo… And losing hands stretch after you…
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,