#English
Is life worth living? It depends on your believing;— If it ends with this short span, Then is man no better than The beasts that perish.
Devils’ work! Devils’ work, my masters! Britain, your hands are red! You may close your heart, but you… This terrible fact,—We—kept—the—T…
“My lord, there came unto the gate One, in such pitiful estate, So all forlorn and desolate, Ill-fed, ill-clad, of ills compact… A leper too,—his poor flesh wracke…
Winter hung about the ways, Very loth to go. Little Spring could not get past… Try she never so. This side,—that side, everywhere,
He writes in characters too grand For our short sight to understand; We catch but broken strokes, and t… To fathom all the mystery Of withered hopes, of death, of li…
(Cradle Song from “The Long Road… Whisht, Baby! Whisht! Quick below the cover! Down into your nest, my bird! And—don’t—you—dare—peep—over!
Pearl Iridescent! Pearl of the se… Shimmering, glimmering Pearl of t… White in the sun-flecked Silver S… White in the moon-decked Silver S… White in the wrath of the Silver…
To lift the sombre fringes of the… To open lands long darkened to the… To heal grim wounds, to give the b… Right mightily wrought he. Forth to the fight he fared,
Lord Christ, let me but hold Thy… And all the rest may go. For nothing is, but only seems, And life is full of idle dreams, Until Thyself we know.
This mortal dies,— But, in the moment when the light… The darkness opens, and the vision… Breaks on his eyes. The vail is rent,—
Better in bitterest agony to lie, Before Thy throne, Than through much increase to be l… And stand alone. Better by one sweet soul, constant…
I trod an arduous way, but came at… To where the city walls rose fair… Above the darkening plain,—a goodl… And eagerly, while yet a great way… My eyes did seek the Gates—the Gr…
King’s Daughter! Wouldst thou be all fair, Without—within— Peerless and beautiful, A very Queen?
Curly head, and laughing eyes,— Mischief that all blame defies. Cricket,—footer,—Eton-jacket,— Everlasting din and racket. Tennis,—boating,—socks and ties,—
When, with bowed head, And silent-streaming tears, With mingled hopes and fears, To earth we yield our dead; The Saints, with clearer sight,