#EnglishWriters
Let’s go to market in the moon, And buy some dreams together, Slip on your little silver shoon, And don your cap and feather; No need of petticoat or stocking—
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;
April, half-clad in flowers and sh… Walks, like a blossom, o’er the la… She smiles at May, and laughing t… The rain and sunshine hand in hand… So gay the dancing of her feet,
Why did she marry him? Ah, say wh… How was her fancy caught? What was the dream that he drew he… Or was she only bought? Gave she her gold for a girlish wh…
Autumn and Winter, Summer and Spring— Hath Time no other song to sing? Weary we grow of the changeless tu… June—December,
When winter comes and takes away t… And all the singing of sweet birds… The warm and honeyed world lost de… Still, independent of the summer s… In vain, with sullen roar,
(TO L. AND H.H.) O you that dwell 'mid farm and fol… Yet keep so quick undulled a heart… I send you here that book of gold, So loved so long;
This is the year that has no Chri… Even the little children must be t… That something sad is happening fa… Or, if you needs must play, As children must,
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.
O bird that somewhere yonder sings… In the dim hour 'twixt dreams and… Lone in the hush of sleeping thing… In some sky sanctuary withdrawn; Your perfect song is too like pain…
My love said she had nought to wea… Her garments all were old, And soon her body must go bare Against the winter’s cold. I took her out into the dawn,
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…
‘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…
The gods are there, they hide thei… From you that will not kneel— Worship, and they reveal, Call—and ’tis they! They have not changed, nor moved f…
After the war—I hear men ask—what… As tho this rock-ribbed world, scu… And bastioned deep in the ethereal… Can never be its morning self agai… Because of this brief madness, man…