#EnglishWriters #Imagery #RhymedStanza #Victorian Aubade
If you and I could change to beas… Shall you and I play Jove for onc… Shy wild sweet stealer of the grap… And thus you think to spite your f… So, all men shrink and shun me! D…
THUS the Mayne glideth Where my Love abideth; Sleep 's no softer: it proceeds On through lawns, on through meads… On and on, whate’er befall,
I WILL be happy if but for once: Only help me, Autumn weather, Me and my cares to screen, ensconc… In luxury’s sofa-lap of leather! Sleep? Nay, comfort—with just a c…
Never the time and the place And the loved one all together! This path—how soft to pace! This May—what magic weather! Where is the loved one’s face?
All’s over, then: does truth sound… As one at first believes? Hark, ’tis the sparrows’ good-nigh… About your cottage eaves! And the leaf-buds on the vine are…
Christ God who savest man, save m… Of men Count Gismond who saved me… Count Gauthier, when he chose his… Chose time and place and company To suit it; when he struck at leng…
That second time they hunted me From hill to plain, from shore to… And Austria, hounding far and wid… Her blood-hounds thro’ the country… Breathed hot and instant on my tra…
Gr-r-r—-there go, my heart’s abhor… Water your damned flower-pots, do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawre… God’s blood, would not mine kill y… What? your myrtle-bush wants trimm…
Where the quiet—coloured end of ev… Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our… Half—asleep Tinkle homeward thro’ the twilight…
SHE: Yet womanhood you reverence… So you profess! HE: With heart and soul. SHE: Of which fact this is evide… To help Art-study,- for some dole
I dream of a red-rose tree. And which of its roses three Is the dearest rose to me? II. Round and round, like a dance of s…
Oh, what a dawn of day! How the March sun feels like May! All is blue again After last night’s rain, And the South dries the hawthorn-…
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity… Draw round my bed: is Anselm keep… Nephews—sons mine . . . ah God, I… She, men would have to be your mot… Old Gandolf envied me, so fair sh…
Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent… Sunset ran, one glorious blood—red… Bluish 'mid the burning water, ful… In the dimmest North-East distanc… “Here and here did England help m…
He was the man—Pope Sixtus, that… He knew the right thing, did it, a… But of all he had to thank for, my… To thinking, what most moved him w… For one day, as his wont was, in j…