#EnglishWriters
My mind is like a clamorous market… All day in wind, rain, sun, its ba… Voice answering to voice in tumult… Chaffering and laughing, pushing f… My thoughts haste on, gay, strange…
“Sweep thy faint strings, Musicia… With thy long lean hand; Downward the starry tapers burn, Sinks soft the waning sand; The old hound whimpers couched in…
Far are the shades of Arabia, Where the Princes ride at noon, ‘Mid the verdurous vales and thick… Under the ghost of the moon; And so dark is that vaulted purple
It was the Great Alexander, Capped with a golden helm, Sate in the ages, in his floating… In a dead calm. Voices of sea-maids singing
‘Won’t you look out of your window… Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding… ‘Can’t you look out of your window… Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly… But the air was still, the cherry…
There is a wind where the rose was… Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o’er the steep Grey skies where the lark was.
Tom told his dog called Tim to be… And up at once he sat, His two clear amber eyes fixed fas… His haunches on his mat.Tom poise… His nose; then, ‘Trust! ’ says he…
Dry August burned. A harvest hare Limp on the kitchen table lay, Its fur blood-blubbered, eye astar… While a small child that stood nea… Wept out her heart to see it there…
‘Who knocks? ’ ‘I, who was beauti… Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn… And knock on the door.’ ‘Who speaks? ’ 'I—once was my spe…
At the edge of All the Ages A Knight sate on his steed, His armor red and thin with rust His soul from sorrow freed; And he lifted up his visor
Have you been catching fish, Tom… Have you snared a weeping hare? Have you whistled 'No Nunny’ and… Or blinded a bird of the air? Have you trod like a murderer thro…
Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier’s boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are—
Isled in the midnight air, Musked with the dark’s faint bloom… Out into glooming and secret haunt… The flame cries, ‘Come!’ Lovely in dye and fan,
As I mused by the hearthside, Puss said to me; ‘there burns the fire, man, and here sit we. Four walls around us
When music sounds, gone is the ear… And all her lovely things even lov… Her flowers in vision flame, her f… Lift burdened branches, stilled wi… When music sounds, out of the wate…