#EnglishWriters #Imagery #RhymedStanza #Victorian Aubade
OUT of the little chapel I burst Into the fresh night air again. I had waited a good five minutes f… In the doorway, to escape the rain That drove in gusts down the commo…
If one could have that little head… Painted upon a background of pale… Such as the Tuscan’s early art pr… No shade encroaching on the matchl… Of those two lips, which should be…
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,
All’s over, then: does truth sound… As one at first believes? Hark, 'tis the sparrows’ good-nigh… About your cottage eaves! II.
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his K… Bidding the crop-headed Parliamen… And, pressing a troop unable to st… And see the rogues flourish and ho… Marched them along, fifty score st…
King Charles, and who’ll do him r… King Charles, and who’s ripe for… Give a rouse: here’s, in Hell’s d… King Charles! Who gave me the goods that went si…
She. Yet womanhood you reverence, So you profess! He. Wi… She. Of which fact this is eviden… To help Art-study,—for some dole
She should never have looked at me If she meant I should not love he… There are plenty... men, you call… I suppose... she may discover All her soul to, if she pleases,
Man I am and man would be, Love—m… Bid me seem no other! Eagles boas… I may put forth angel’s plumage, o… Now on earth to stand suffices,—na… Here you front me, here I find th…
THE MORN when first it thunders… The eel in the pond gives a leap,… As I leaned and looked over the a… Of the villa-gate this warm March… No flash snapped, no dumb thunder…
I wonder do you feel to—day As I have felt since, hand in han… We sat down on the grass, to stray In spirit better through the land, This morn of Rome and May?
Let us begin and carry up this cor… Singing together. Leave we the common crofts, the vu… Each in its tether Sleeping safe on the bosom of the…
“HEIGHO,” yawned one day King… “Distance all value enhances! When a man’s busy, why, leisure Strikes him as wonderful pleasure— ’Faith, and at leisure once is he?
WHAT girl but, having gathered f… Stript the beds and spoilt the bow… From the lapful light she carries Drops a careless bud?—nor tarries To regain the waif and stray:
Just for a handful of silver he le… Just for a riband to stick in his… Found the one gift of which fortun… Lost all the others she lets us de… They, with the gold to give, doled…