#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian
SURE never yet was antelope Could skip so lightly by. Stand off, or else my skipping-rop… Will hit you in the eye. How lightly Whirls the skipping-r…
Athelstan King, Lord among Earls, Bracelet-bestower and Baron of Barons, He with his brother,
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…
O blackbird! sing me something wel… While all the neighbours shoot the… I keep smooth plats of fruitful gr… Where thou may’st warble, eat and… The espaliers and the standards al…
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer’s… Gave his broad lawns until the set… Up to the people: thither flocked… His tenants, wife and child, and t… The neighbouring borough with thei…
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
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,
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,
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,
In Love, if Love be Love, if Lov… Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equ… Unfaith in aught is want of faith… It is the little rift within the l… That by and by will make the music…
Light, so low upon earth, You send a flash to the sun. Here is the golden close of love, All my wooing is done. Oh, all the woods and the meadows,
THE groundflame of the crocus bre… Fair Spring slides hither o’er th… Wavers on her thin stem the snowdr… That trembles not to kisses of the… Come Spring, for now from all the…
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…
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs… To many—tower’d Camelot;
He rose at dawn and, fired with ho… Shot o’er the seething harbour-bar… And reach’d the ship and caught th… And whistled to the morning star. And while he whistled long and lou…