#EnglishWriters
A hard north-easter fifty winters… Has bronzed and shrivelled sere he… Her locks are wild and grey, her t… Her foot is vast, her bowed leg sp… A wide blue cloak, a squat and stu…
O gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes… And winter waits behind it. For with the dream foregone, foreg…
SONS of Shannon, Tamar, Trent, Men of the Lothians, Men of Kent… Essex, Wessex, shore and shire, Mates of the net, the mine, the fi… Lads of the wheel and desk and loo…
Life is bitter. All the faces o… Young and old, are gray with trava… Must we only wake to toil, to tire… In the sun, among the leaves, upon… Slumber stills to dreamy death the…
Not to the staring Day, For all the importunate questionin… In his big, violent voice, Shall those mild things of bulk an… The Trees—God’s sentinels
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fa… On desolate sea and lonely sand, Out of the silence and the shade What is the voice of strange comma… Calling you still, as friend calls…
Or ever the knightly years were go… With the old world to the grave, I was the King of Babylon And you were a Christian Slave. I saw, I took, I cast you by,
Down the quiet eve, Thro’ my window with the sunset Pipes to me a distant organ Foolish ditties; And, as when you change
When you are old, and I am passed… Passed, and your face, your golden… I think, whate’er the end, this dr… Comforting you, a friendly star wi… Down the dim slope where you still…
Out of the starless night that cov… (O tribulation of the wind that ro… Black as the cloud of some tremend… The susurration of the sighing sea Sounds like the sobbing whisper of…
A DAINTY thing’s the Villanell… Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme, It serves its purpose passing well… A double-clappered silver bell That must be made to clink in chim…
SINCE those we love and those we… With all things mean and all thing… Pass in a desperate disarray Over the hills and far away: It must be, Dear, that, late or s…
‘Talk of pluck!’ pursued the Sail… Set at euchre on his elbow, ‘I was on the wharf at Charleston… Just ashore from off the runner. ’It was grey and dirty weather,
Blue-eyed and bright of face but w… Into the sere of virginal decay, I view her as she enters, day by d… As a sweet sunset almost overpast. Kindly and calm, patrician to the…
Let us be drunk, and for a while f… Forget, and, ceasing even from reg… Live without reason and despite of… As in a dream preposterous and sub… Where place and hour and means for…