#EnglishWriters
My childhood, then, had passed a m… Shrouded by death, my boyhood a sh… The passion of my soul as it grew… With growing youth, a bird with br… Knew nothing of its strength to da…
But where he fared and how, it mat… He and his mourning ere a month ha… Were out of mind with all and clea… Kinsman and friend and foe: save o… Only Natalia. She with tightened…
Thus Adrian learned it. And behol… Which he had hardened against all… And wrapped up secretly and laid a… As something which should not be u… Woke with a pang, and tremulously…
Gone are they the lost camps, ligh… in Miná, in Gháula, Rijám left ho… Lost are they. Rayyán lies lorn w… scored in lines like writings left… Tent—floors smooth, forsaken, bare…
ON THE POWER OF HER BEAU… I am lighthearted now. An hour ag… There was a tempest in my heaven,… Of sullen lightning under a bent b… And a dull muttering which breathe…
At this fair oak table sat Whilom he our Laureate, Poet, handicraftsman, sage, Light of our Victorian age, William Morris, whose art’s plan
What shall I tell you, child, in… Life’s art is to forget, and last… Cast in Time’s furrow with the st… Bears me a wild crop with strange… Last year I wore your sole rose i…
Youth is all valiant. He and I to… Conscious of strength, and unrepro… Strained at the world’s convention… Too weak to bind us, and burst for… The backs of fools we scourged as…
Do you remember, Lucy, How, in the days gone by We spent a summer together, A summer in Tuscany, In the chestnut woods by the river…
THE SAME CONTINUED Your youth flowed on, a river chas… Till thirty years were written to… A wife, a mother, these the titles… Which conquered for you the world’…
THE LONDON SEASON I still love London in the month… By an old habit, spite of dust and… I love the fair adulterous world,… Is by the pleasant banks of Serpe…
Tears, idle tears! Ah, who shall… Now that thy lyre, O prophet, is… What voice shall rouse the dull wo… And lead its requiem as when Grie… And thou in thy rapt youth, Time’…
She was a little woman dressed in… Who stood on tiptoe with a childis… Her face and figure hidden in a sa… All but her eyes and forehead and… Her brow was pale, but it was lit…
Oh, ’tis a terrible thing in early… To be assailed by laughter and mut… A terrible thing to be befooled fo… By one’s own foolish face betrayed… The little traitor, when she saw m…
THE SAME—A CHRISTMAS SO… Since thou hast given me these, J… There have been tidings told of a… Of peace on Earth, good—will with… Thou hast put on my soul’s infirmi…