#EnglishWriters #Victorian
WARRIOR of God, man’s friend,… Now somewhere dead far in the wast… Thou livest in all hearts, for all… This earth has never borne a noble…
I thought of Thee, my partner and… As being past away. –Vain sympath… For backward, Duddon! as I cast m… I see what was, and is, and will a… Still glides the Stream, and shal…
You ask me, why, tho’ ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till,
Hark! the dogs howl! the sleetwind… The church-clocks knoll: the hours… I leave the dreaming world below. Blown o’er frore heads of hills I… Long narrowing friths and stripes…
Long lines of cliff breaking have… And in the chasm are foam and yell… Beyond, red roofs about a narrow w… In cluster; then a moulder’d churc… A long street climbs to one tall-t…
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go,
Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. “Forward, the Light Brigade!
With one black shadow at its feet, The house thro’ all the level shin… Close—latticed to the brooding hea… And silent in its dusty vines: A faint—blue ridge upon the right,
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard, Had one fair daughter, and none ot… And she was the fairest of all fle… Guinevere, and in her his one deli… For many a petty king ere Arthur…
Again at Christmas did we weave The holly round the Christmas hea… The silent snow possess’d the eart… And calmly fell our Christmas-eve… The yule-log sparkled keen with fr…
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in… Had made mock-knight of Arthur’s… At Camelot, high above the yellow… Danced like a withered leaf before… And toward him from the hall, with…
. There lies a vale in Ida, lovel… Than all the valleys of Ionian hi… The swimming vapour slopes athwart… Puts forth an arm, and creeps from… And loiters, slowly drawn. On eit…
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…
The wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave, Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul? Are God and Nature then at strife…
Once more the Heavenly Power Makes all things new, And domes the red-plowed hills With loving blue; The blackbirds have their wills,