#EnglishWriters
The Cry of the Little Peoples we… The Czech and the Pole, and the… We ask but a little portion of the… Only to sow and sing and reap in t… We ask not coaling stations, nor p…
The human heart will never change, The human dream will still go on, The enchanted earth be ever strang… With moonlight and the morning sun… And still the seas shall shout for…
Silence, whose drowsy eyelids are… And whose half-sleeping eyes are t… On whose still breast the water-li… For all her speech the whisper of… Made of all things that in the wat…
Autumn and Winter, Summer and Spring— Hath Time no other song to sing? Weary we grow of the changeless tu… June—December,
I bring a message from the stream To fan the burning cheeks of town, From morning’s tower Of pearl and rose I bring this cup of crystal down,
The lawless love that would not be… The love that waited, and in waiti… The love that met and mated, satis… Ah, love, ’twas good to climb forb… Who would not follow where his Ju…
War I abhor, And yet how sweet The sound along the marching stree… Of drum and fife, and I forget
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…
When leaf and flower are newly mad… And bird and butterfly and bee Are at their summer posts again; When all is ready, lo! ’tis she, Suddenly there after soft rain–
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
Is it your face I see, your voice… Your face, your voice, again after… O is your cheek once more against… And is this blessed rain, angel, y… You have come back,-how strange-ou…
(To the Sweet Memory of Lucy Hin… Say not—'She once was fair;' beca… Have changed her beauty to a holie… No girl hath such a lovely face as… That hoards the sweets of many a v…
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,
(FOR MR, G. F. WATTS’S P… Mammon is this, of murder and of g… To-day, to-morrow, and ever from o… Th’ Almighty God, and King of ev… Man ‘neath his foot, and woman ’ne…
Nature, that makes Professors all… And, filling idle souls with idle… Turns out small Poets every other… Made earth for men—but seldom puts… Ah, Minto, thou of that minority