#EnglishWriters
“O lonely workman, standing there In a dream, why do you stare and s… At her grave, as no other grave wh… “If your great gaunt eyes so impor… Her soul by the shine of this corp…
Only a man harrowing clods In a slow silent walk With an old horse that stumbles an… Half asleep as they stalk. Only thin smoke without flame
In his early days he was quite sur… When she told him she was compromi… By meetings and lingerings at his… And thinking not of herself but hi… While she lifted orbs aggrieved an…
From the slow march and muffled dr… And crowds distrest, And book and bell, at length I ha… To my full rest. A ten years’ rule beneath the sun
It was a wet wan hour in spring, And Nature met King Doom beside… Wherein Hodge trudged, all blithe… The Mother’s smiling reign. "Why warbles he that skies are…
My spirit will not haunt the mound Above my breast, But travel, memory-possessed, To where my tremulous being found Life largest, best.
Once more the cauldron of the sun Smears the bookcase with winy red, And here my page is, and there my… And the apple-tree shadows travel… Soon their intangible track will b…
WHEN we as strangers sought Their catering care, Veiled smiles bespoke their though… Of what we were. They warmed as they opined
At Westminster, hid from the ligh… Many who once had shone as monarch… Edward the Pious, and two Edwards… The second Richard, Henrys three… That is to say, those who were cal…
Some say the spot is banned; that… Attests to a deed of hell; But of else than of bale is the my… That ancient Vale-folk tell. Ere Cernel’s Abbey ceased hereabo…
Hereto I come to interview a ghos… Whither, O whither will its whim… Up the cliff, down, till I’m lone… And the unseen waters’ ejaculation… Where you will next be there’s no…
"O Lord, why grievest Thou? - Since Life has ceased to be Upon this globe, now cold As lunar land and sea, And humankind, and fowl, and fur
"No—not where I shall make my own… But dig his grave just by The woman’s with the initialed sto… As near as he can lie - After whose death he seemed to ail…
If but some vengeful god would cal… From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou… Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy… That thy love’s loss is my hate’s… Then would I bear it, clench myse…
Whence comes Solace?—Not from see… What is doing, suffering, being, Not from noting Life’s conditions… Nor from heeding Time’s monitions… But in cleaving to the Dream,