#EnglishWriters
When all, and birds, and creeping… When the dark of night is deep, From the moving wonder of their li… Commit themselves to sleep. Without a thought, or fear, they s…
I think and think: yet still I fa… Why must this lady wear a veil? Why thus elect to mask her face Beneath that dainty web of lace? The tip of a small nose I see,
It’s a very odd thing - As odd can be - That whatever Miss T eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples,
Here lies a most beautiful lady, Light of step and heart was she; I think she was the most beautiful… That ever was in the West Country… But beauty vanishes, beauty passes…
Through the green twilight of a he… I peered, with cheek on the cool l… And spied a bird upon a nest: Two eyes she had beseeching me Meekly and brave, and her brown br…
As I was walking, Thyme sweet to my nose, Green grasshoppers talking, Rose rivalling rose: And wing, like amber,
Who said, “Peacock Pie”? The old King to the sparrow: Who said, “Crops are ripe”? Rust to the harrow: Who said, “Where sleeps she now?
In sea-cold Lyonesse, When the Sabbath eve shafts down On the roofs, walls, belfries Of the foundered town, The Nereids pluck their lyres
The seas of England are our old d… Let the loud billow of the shingly… Sing freedom on her breezes evermo… To all earth’s ships that sailing… The gaunt sea-nettle be our fortit…
Suppose... and suppose that a wild… Came cantering out of the sky, With bridle of silver, and into th… To fly—and to fly; And we stretched up into the air,…
No breath of wind, No gleam of sun— Still the white snow Whirls softly down Twig and bough
When I lie where shades of darkne… Shall no more assail mine eyes, Nor the rain make lamentation When the wind sighs; How will fare the world whose wond…
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…
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…
Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are shinng there, Tossing their lovely dews, Lustrous and fair; And through these sweet fields go,