#EnglishWriters
To my native place Bent upon returning, Bosom all day burning To be where my race Well were known, ‘twas much with m…
WILLIAM Dewy, Tranter Reuben,… Robert’s kin, and John’s, and Ned… And the Squire, and Lady Susan,… “Gone,” I call them, gone for goo… heads;
The day is turning ghost, And scuttles from the kalendar in… To join the anonymous host Of those that throng oblivion; ced… To one of like degree.
When moiling seems at cease In the vague void of night-time, And heaven’s wide roomage stormles… Between the dusk and light-time, And fear at last is formless,
(at a Cathedral Service) THAT from this bright believing… An outcast I should be, That faiths by which my comrades s… Seem fantasies to me,
‘Why do you stand in the dripping… Cold-lipped, unconscious, wet to t… When there are firesides near?’ sa… ‘I told him I wished him dead,’ s… ‘Yea, cried it in my haste to one
They bear him to his resting-place… In slow procession sweeping by; I follow at a stranger’s space; His kindred they, his sweetheart… Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
In our heart of hearts believing Victory crown the just, And that braggarts must Surely bite the dust, Press we to the field ungrieving,
She charged me with having said th… To another woman long years before… In the very parlour where we sat,… Sat on a night when the endless po… Of rain on the roof and the road b…
Southampton Docks: October 189… Here, where Vespasian’s legions s… And Cendric with the Saxons enter… And Henry’s army lept afloat to w… Convincing triumphs over neighbori…
"The quay recedes. Hurrah! Ahead… It’s true I’ve been accustomed no… And joints get rusty, and one’s li… More fit to rest than roam. "But I can stand as yet fair stre…
Between us now and here - Two thrown together Who are not wont to wear Life’s flushest feather - Who see the scenes slide past,
I said to Love, "It is not now as in old days When men adored thee and thy ways All else above; Named thee the Boy, the Bright, t…
To M. H. WE passed where flag and flower Signalled a jocund throng; We said: “Go to, the hour Is apt!”—and joined the song;
I scanned her picture dreaming, Till each dear line and hue Was imaged, to my seeming, As if it lived anew. Her lips began to borrow