#EnglishWriters
When the boughs of the garden hang… And the blackbird reneweth his son… And the thunder departing yet roll… I remember the ending of wrong. When the day that was dusk while h…
I once a King and chief Now am the tree-bark’s thief, Ever 'twixt trunk and leaf Chasing the prey.
Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet
am the handmaid of the earth, I broider fair her glorious gown, And deck her on her days of mirth With many a garland of renown. And while Earth’s little ones are…
Of Heaven or Hell I have no powe… I cannot ease the burden of your f… Or make quick-coming death a littl… Or bring again the pleasure of pas… Nor for my words shall ye forget y…
Our hands have met, our lips have… Our souls - who knows when the win… How light souls drift mid longings… If thou forget’st, can I forget The time that was not long ago?
It was a knight of the southern la… Rode forth upon the way When the birds sang sweet on eithe… About the middle of the May. But when he came to the lily-close…
Ho! is there any will ride with me… Sir Giles, le bon des barrières? The clink of arms is good to hear, The flap of pennons fair to see; Ho! is there any will ride with me…
So swift the hours are moving Unto the time unproved: Farewell my love unloving, Farewell my love beloved! What! are we not glad-hearted?
What cometh here from west to east… And who are these, the marchers st… We bear the message that the rich… Aback to those who bade them wake… Not one, not one, nor thousands mu…
For many, many days together The wind blew steady from the Eas… For many days hot grew the weather… About the time of our Lady’s Feas… For many days we rode together,
TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may.
Hast thou longed through weary day… For the sight of one loved face? Mast thou cried aloud for rest, Mid the pain of sundering hours; Cried aloud for sleep and death,
Love is enough: cherish life that… Lest ye die ere ye know him, and c… For who knows in what ruin of all… On what wings of the terror of dar… And what is the joy of man’s life…
I KNOW a little garden-close, Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy morn to dewy night, And have one with me wandering.