#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
How fares it with the happy dead? For here the man is more and more; But he forgets the days before God shut the doorways of his head. The days have vanish’d, tone and t…
With blackest moss the flower-plot… Were thickly crusted, one and all: The rusted nails fell from the kno… That held the pear to the gable-wa… The broken sheds look’d sad and st…
YOU must wake and call me early,… To-morrow ’ill be the happiest tim… Of all the glad New-year, mother,… For I’m to be Queen o’ the May,… There’s many a black, black eye, t…
MY good blade carves the casques… My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of… Because my heart is pure. The shattering trumpet shrilleth h…
Sad Hesper o’er the buried sun And ready, thou, to die with him, Thou watchest all things ever dim And dimmer, and a glory done: The team is loosen’d from the wain…
That story which the bold Sir Bed… First made and latest left of all… Told, when the man was no more tha… In the white winter of his age, to… With whom he dwelt, new faces, oth…
Dip down upon the northern shore O sweet new-year delaying long; Thou doest expectant nature wrong; Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded n…
We move, the wheel must always mov… Nor always on the plain, And if we move to such a goal As wisdom hopes to gain, Then you that drive, and know your…
Where Claribel low-lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
All along the valley, stream that… Deepening thy voice with the deepe… All along the valley, where thy wa… I walk’d with one I loved two and… All along the valley, while I wal…
Ask me no more: the moon may draw… The cloud may stoop from heaven an… With fold to fold, of mountain or… But O too fond, when have I answe… Ask me no more.
Is it, then, regret for buried tim… That keenlier in sweet April wake… And meets the year, and gives and… The colours of the crescent prime? Not all: the songs, the stirring a…
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar w… And lash with storm the streaming… Day, when my crown’d estate begun
Dip down upon the northern shore O sweet new—year delaying long; Thou doest expectant nature wrong; Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded n…
The path by which we twain did go, Which led by tracts that pleased u… Thro’ four sweet years arose and f… From flower to flower, from snow t… And we with singing cheer’d the wa…