#EnglishWriters
Winter is white on turf and tree, And birds are fled; But summer songsters pipe to me, And petals spread, For what I dreamt of secretly
If hours be years the twain are bl… For now they solace swift desire By bonds of every bond the best, If hours be years. The twain are… Do eastern stars slope never west,
I went by the Druid stone That broods in the garden white an… And I stopped and looked at the s… That at some moments fall thereon From the tree hard by with a rhyth…
Forty years back, when much had pl… That since has perished out of min… I heard that voice and saw that fa… He spoke as one afoot will wind A morning horn ere men awake;
THIS love puts all humanity from… I can but maledict her, pray her d… For giving love and getting love o… Feeding a heart that else mine own… How much I love I know not, life…
At last I entered a long dark gal… Catacomb—lined; and ranged at the… Were the bodies of men from far an… Who, motion past, were nevertheles… “The sense of waiting here strikes…
I rose up as my custom is On the eve of All-Souls’ day, And left my grave for an hour or s… To call on those I used to know Before I passed away.
Between us now and here— Two thrown together Who are not wont to wear Life’s flushest feather— Who see the scenes slide past,
When of tender mind and body I was moved by minstrelsy, And that strain “The Bridge of L… Brought a strange delight to me… In the battle-breathing jingle
O poet, come you haunting here Where streets have stolen up all a… And never a nightingale pours one Full-throated sound? Drawn from your drowse by the Sev…
I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre—grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine—stems scored the…
Its former green is blue and thin, And its once firm legs sink in and… Soon it will break down unaware, Soon it will break down unaware. At night when reddest flowers are…
Let us off and search, and find a… Where yours and mine can be natura… Where no one comes who dissects an… And proclaims that ours is a curio… That its touch of romance can scar…
A Load of brushes and baskets and… Labours along the street in the ra… With it a man, a woman, a pony wit… The man foots in front of the hors… At a slower tread than a funeral t…
A very West-of-Wessex girl, As blithe as blithe could be, Was once well-known to me, And she would laud her native town… And hope and hope that we
