#EnglishWriters
Sweet after labour, soft and whisp… Blows on dark fields and fragrant… Here there is sleep, to weary limb… The world is far away, the stars a… The world is far away: but there,…
The theatre is still, and Duse sp… What charm possesses all, And what a bloom let fall On parted lips, and eyes, and flus… The flattering whisper and the tri…
Where do you float from, visions t… Subdues with leaden law The dancing fires of the brain?—I… As a king from a tower I saw. There came startled gazelles, beau…
Give me your hand, Beloved! I can… So close from shadowy—branching tr… Dark leaves hang over us. How vas… Night sleeps! and yet a murmur, a… Sighed out of mystery, steals slow…
To whom but thee, my youth to dedi… My youth, which these few leaves h… Should I now come, although I com… Alas! and can but lay them on thy… To whom but thee? From thee, I kn…
He stands where the young faces pa… His blank eyes tremble in the noon… He sees all life, the lovely and t… Before him run. Eager and swift, or grouped and lo…
Within, the pillars soar to gloom Lit by the glimmering Rose ; Spirits of beauty shrined in stone Afar from mortal woes, Hearing not, though their haunted…
I saw the Goddess of the Evening… Between two mountain pillars. Tal… Appeared her stature, and her outs… Laid on those luminous cold summit… Touching, and lingered. Earth was…
Swift and straight as homing dove, Heedless, so its flight be flown, All the full stream of thy love, Love that knows no mortal bounding… Pours, is emptied for its own,
Because the storm has stript us ba… Of all things but the thing we are… Because our faith requires us whol… And we are seen to the very soul, Rejoice! From now all meaner fear…
Often we talk of the house that we… For airier and less jostled days t… We chafe in, and send Fancy roami… Down western valleys with a choosi… To hover upon this nook or on that…
It is early morning within this ro… Dark and damp; without and within,… Waiting for day: not a sound but a… Yellow jasmine, delicate on stiff… Stands in a Tuscan pot to delight…
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…
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
I lay upon my bed in the great nig… The sense of my body drowsed; But a clearness yet lingered in th… By soft obscurity housed. As an inn to a traveller on a long…