#EnglishWriters #Victorian
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;
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…
Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went
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…
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
OLD FITZ, who from your suburb… Where once I tarried for a while, Glance at the wheeling orb of chan… And greet it with a kindly smile; Whom yet I see as there you sit
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…
O you chorus of indolent reviewers… Irresponsible, indolent reviewers, Look, I come to the test, a tiny… All composed in a metre of Catull… All in quantity, careful of my mot…
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…
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…
Tears, idle tears, I know not wha… Tears from the depth of some divin… Rise in the heart, and gather to t… In looking on the happy Autumn-fi… And thinking of the days that are…
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes
I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and fa… No lower life that earth’s embrace May breed with him, can fright my… Eternal process moving on,
MY father left a park to me, But it is wild and barren, A garden too with scarce a tree, And waster than a warren: Yet say the neighbours when they c…
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…