#EnglishWriters
From North and South, and East a… They come! The sorely tried, the much oppress… Their Faith and Love to manifest, They come!
Bright stars of Faith and Hope, h… Shall shine for us through all the… For all her life was Love, and fe… Touch not the love that never dies… And Death itself, to her, was but
I stood, unseen, within a sumptous… Where one clothed all in white sat… So sweet his presence that a pure… Rayed from him, and I saw—most wo… The Love of God shrined in the fl…
“A red rose for my helmet, And a word before we part! The rose shall be my oriflamme The word shall fill my heart.” Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart—
The wind blows shrill along the hi… —Black is the night and cold— The sky hangs low with its weight… And the drifts are deep on the wol… But what care I for wind or snow?
(As earnestly as any I crave the victory of Right over this madness of Insensate Might against which we are contending. As certainly as any I would, if that were conceivably poss...
“'Tis all a Chequer-Board of Nig… Where Detiny with men for pieces… Hither and thither moves, and mate… And one by one back in the Closet… Omar Khayyam.
We thank Thee, Lord, For all Thy Golden Silences,— For every Sabbath from the world’… For every respite from the stress… Silence of moorlands rolling to th…
Who are the Makers of Wars? The Kings of the earth. And who are these Kings of the ea… Only men—not always even men of wo… But claiming rule by right of birt…
Thank God for Peace! Up to the sombre sky Rolled one great thankful sigh, Rolled one great gladsome cry— The soul’s deliverance of a mighty…
The Mills of God grind slowly, bu… So soft and slow the great wheels… But the souls of men fall into the… And in that dust grow the Passion… Most wondrous their upspringing, i…
Fold up the tent! The sun is in the West. To-morrow my untented soul will ra… Among the blest. And I am well content,
A Potter, playing with his lump o… Fashioned an image of supremest wo… "Never was nobler image made on ea… Than this that I have fashioned o… And I, of mine own skill, did fas…
The sun shone white and fair, This Eastertide, Yet all its sweetness seemed but t… Our souls’ despair; For stricken hearts, and loss and…
Soul, dost thou fear For to-day or to-morrow? ’Tis the part of a fool To go seeking sorrow. Of thine own doing