#Decadents #English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
A far look in absorbed eyes, unawa… Of what some gazer thrills to gath… Happy voice, singing to itself apa… That pulses new blood through a li… Bowed fortitude; and in an hour of…
By white St. Martin’s, where the… And plashed unheard in the busy mo… March, with rippling shadow and su… Laughing riotous round the gusty s… From frail narcissus heaped in bas…
Soft little hands that stray and c… Like fern fronds curl and uncurl b… While baby faces lie in such Close sleep as flowers at night th… What is it you would, clasp and ho…
O there are wanderers over wave an… Invisible and secret, everywhere Moving thro’ light and night from… Swifter than bird or cloud upon th… Wild Longings, from divided bosom…
Random rock And the stain of the rain, Smell of bracken, The windy moor And the wild cloud,
At the road’s end glimmer the stat… How small beneath the immense holl… Lonely and living silence! Air th… And tingled on the eyelids as we f… The long road stretched between th…
To other voices, other majesties, Removed this while, Peace shall r… But he was with us in our darkest… And stormiest hour: his faith roya… The colours of our cause; his voic…
Ah, now this happy month is gone, Not now, my heart, complain, Nor rail at Time because so soon He takes his own again. He takes his own, the weeks, the h…
I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, a… From rail-track and from highway,… In field and farmstead many an anc… Of local lineage like ‘Thu bist,’… ‘Ich woll,’ ‘Er sholl,’ and by-ta…
The night wind over the great down… Streams along the sky. In the solitude of the hill—side There is only you and I. The night wind leaps and rushes
Is it we that are wise, is it we, Who have bought with a price of gr… A wisdom seldom free From scorn or disbelief, Who find this world fulfil
As I walked through London, The fresh wound burning in my brea… As I walked through London, Longing to have forgotten, to hard… A sudden consolation, a softening…
No more now with jealous complaini… Shall you be vext; nor I with fea… Torture my heart: my heart is secu… And laughs at follies of former te… No more now with the endless paini…
The Toy-seller his idle wares Carefully ranges, side by side; With coveting soft earnest airs The children linger, open-eyed. His haunted soul from far away
A woman sat, with roses red Upon her lap before her spread, On that high bridge whose parapet Wide over turbulent Thames is set… Between the dome’s far glittering…