#EnglishWriters
Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are shinng there, Tossing their lovely dews, Lustrous and fair; And through these sweet fields go,
When Susan’s work was done, she’d… With one fat guttering candle lit, And window opened wide to win The sweet night air to enter in; There, with a thumb to keep her pl…
The last of last words spoken is,… The last dismantled flower in the… The last thin rumour of a feeble b… The last blind rat to spurn the mi… A hardening darkness glasses the h…
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoo… This way, and that, she peers, and… Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch
If I were Lord of Tartary, Myself, and me alone, My bed should be of ivory, Of beaten gold my throne; And in my court should peacocks fl…
THERE is 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.
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…
Come, Death, I’d have a word with… And thou, poor Innocency; And Love - a lad with broken win… Apnd Pity, too; The Fool shall sing to you,
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…
Speak not ' whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower, Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
Winter is fallen early On the house of Stare; Birds in reverberating flocks Haunt its ancestral box; Bright are the plenteous berries
Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Someone came knocking; I’m sure-sure-sure; I listened, I opened,
The old Pig said to the little pi… ‘In the forest is truffles and mas… Follow me then, all ye little pigs… Follow me fast!’ The Charcoal-burner sat in the sh…
Puss loves man’s winter fire Now that the sun so soon Leaves the hours cold it warmed In burning June. She purrs full length before
See this house, how dark it is Beneath its vast-boughed trees! Not one trembling leaflet cries To that Watcher in the skies— ‘Remove, remove thy searching gaze…