#EnglishWriters
WHEN I look forth at dawning, po… Field, flock, and lonely tree, All seem to look at me Like chastened children sitting si… Their faces dulled, constrained, a…
Song of the Soldiers What of the faith and fire within… Men who march away Ere the barn-cocks say Night is growing gray,
My spirit will not haunt the mound Above my breast, But travel, memory-possessed, To where my tremulous being found Life largest, best.
Who, then, was Cestius, And what is he to me? - Amid thick thoughts and memories m… One thought alone brings he. I can recall no word
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
I sat in the Muses’ Hall at the m… And it seemed to grow still, and t… And the chiselled shapes to combin… Till beside a Carrara column ther… She was nor this nor that of those…
WHEN, soul in soul reflected, We breathed an æthered air, When we neglected All things elsewhere, And left the friendly friendless
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…
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…
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 you paced forth, to wait ma… A dream of other offspring held my… Compounded of us twain as Love de… Rare forms, that corporate now wil… Should I, too, wed as slave to Mo…
Shall we conceal the Case, or tel… We who believe the evidence? Here and there the watch-towers… With a sullen significance, Heard of the few who hearken inten…
Spoken by Miss Ada Rehan at the… performance on behalf of Lady Jeu… BEFORE we part to alien thought… Permit the one brief word the occa… —When mumming and grave projects a…
Last year I called this world of… The darkest thinkable, and questio… If my own land could heave its pul… So charged it seemed with circumst… The tragedy of things.
When the wasting embers redden the… And Life’s bare pathway looms lik… And from hall and parlour the livi… My perished people who housed them… They come and seat them around in…