#English #Women
On London fell a clearer light; Caressing pencils of the sun Defined the distances, the white Houses transfigured one by one, The 'long, unlovely street’ impear…
Farewell to one now silenced quite… Sent out of hearing, out of sight,… My friend of friends, whom I shal… He is not banished, though, for th… Nor he, nor sadness, nor delight.
She walks—the lady of my delight— A shepherdess of sheep. Her flocks are thoughts. She keep… She guards them from the steep. She feeds them on the fragrant hei…
One wept whose only child was dead… New-born, ten years ago. “Weep not; he is in bliss,” they s… She answered, “Even so, ”Ten years ago was born in pain
Listen, and when thy hand this pap… O time-worn woman, think of her wh… What thy thin fingers touch, with… O mother, for the weight of years… O daughter, for slow time must yet…
I come from nothing; but from wher… Come the undying thoughts I bear? Down, through the long links of de… From the past poets of the earth, My immortality is there.
I must not think of thee; and, tir… I shun the love that lurks in all… The love of thee—and in the blue h… And in the dearest passage of a so… Oh, just beyond the sweetest thoug…
O Spring, I know thee! Seek for… In the young children’s eyes. But I have learnt the years, and… Leaf-folded violet. Mine ear, awake to silence, can fo…
Rich meanings of the prophet-Spri… Unseen, this colourless sky of fol… And folded winds; no blossom in th… A poet’s face asleep in this grey… Now in the midst of the old world…
The leaves are many under my feet, And drift one way. Their scent of death is weary and… A flight of them is in the grey Where sky and forest meet.
(I) PROMETHEUS 1- IT was the south: mid-everything, - Mid-land, mid-summer, noon ; -
Farewell has long been said; I ha… I never name thee even. But how shall I learn virtues and… For thou art so near Heaven That Heavenward meditations pause…
A poet of one mood in all my lays, Ranging all life to sing one only… Like a west wind across the world… Sweeping my harp of floods mine ow… The countries change, but not the…
New delights to our desire The singers of the past can yield. I lift mine eyes to hill and field… And see in them your yet dumb lyre… poets unborn and unrevealed.
Home, home from the horizon far an… Hither the soft wings sweep; Flocks of the memories of the day… The dovecote doors of sleep. Oh which are they that come throug…