#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian
Dark house, by which once more I… Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to… So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp’d no more…
I built my soul a lordly pleasure-… Wherein at ease for aye to dwell. I said, “O Soul, make merry and c… Dear soul, for all is well.” A huge crag-platform, smooth as bu…
Faint as a climate-changing bird t… All night across the darkness, and… Falls on the threshold of her nati… And can no more, thou camest, O m… Led upward by the God of ghosts a…
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…
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.
WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn… In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow’d back with… The forward-flowing tide of time; And many a sheeny summer-morn,
Who would be A merman bold, Sitting alone, Singing alone Under the sea,
Dedication These to His Memory—since he held… Perchance as finding there unconsc… Some image of himself—I dedicate, I dedicate, I consecrate with tea…
AT Flores, in the Azores Sir Ri… And a pinnace, like a flutter’d… 'Spanish ships of war at sea! we… Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: '… But I cannot meet them here, for…
Deep on the convent—roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour go… May my soul follow soon! The shadows of the convent—towers
Of old sat Freedom on the heights… The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoice…
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…
Our enemies have fall’n, have fall… The little seed they laugh’d at in… Has risen and cleft the soil, and… Of spanless girth, that lays on ev… A thousand arms and rushes to the…
You say, but with no touch of scor… Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-bl… Are tender over drowning flies, You tell me, doubt is Devil-born. I know not: one indeed I knew
THE splendour falls on castle wal… And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the l… And the wild cataract leaps in glo… Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild ec…