#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Thy voice is heard thro’ rolling d… That beat to battle where he stand… Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow,
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…
Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovea… Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, High in her chamber up a tower to… Guarded the sacred shield of Lanc… Which first she placed where the m…
So all day long the noise of battl… Among the mountains by the winter… Until King Arthur’s table, man by… Had fallen in Lyonnesse about the… King Arthur: then, because his wo…
The splendor falls on castle walls 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…
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…
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…
A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fa… Of temper amorous, as the first of… With lengths of yellow ringlet, li… For on my cradle shone the Northe… There lived an ancient legend in o…
With trembling fingers did we weav… The holly round the Christmas hea… A rainy cloud possess’d the earth, And sadly fell our Christmas-eve. At our old pastimes in the hall
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;
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…
Old poets foster’d under friendlie… Old Virgil who would write ten li… At dawn, and lavish all the golden… To make them wealthier in the read… And you, old popular Horace, you…
O that ’twere possible After long grief and pain To find the arms of my true love Round me once again!... A shadow flits before me,
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…
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, So loud with voices of the birds, So thick with lowings of the herds… Day, when I lost the flower of me… Who tremblest thro’ thy darkling r…