#EnglishWriters
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?
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…
Softly along the road of evening, In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age, and drenched wi… Old Nod, the shepherd, goes. His drowsy flock streams on before…
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
Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on,
To Edward Thomas The haze of noon wanned silver-gre… The soundless mansion of the sun; The air made visible in his ray, Like molten glass from furnace run…
’Tis silence on the enchanted lake… And silence in the air serene, Save for the beating of her heart, The lovely-eyed Evangeline. She sings across the waters clear
That one, alone, Who’s dared and gone To seek the Magic Wonderstone, No fear, or care, Or black despair
If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; a… A nimble titmouse enter in.
Upon this leafy bush With thorns and roses in it, Flutters a thing of light, A twittering linnet. And all the throbbing world
In sea-cold Lyonesse, When the Sabbath eve shafts down On the roofs, walls, belfries Of the foundered town, The Nereids pluck their lyres
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,
Dim-berried is the mistletoe With globes of sheenless grey, The holly mid ten thousand thorns Smoulders its fires away; And in the manger Jesus sleeps
The seeds I sowed – For week unseen – Have pushed up pygmy Shoots of green; So frail you’d think
As I mused by the hearthside, Puss said to me; ‘there burns the fire, man, and here sit we. Four walls around us