#EnglishWriters
Alone, obscure, without a friend, A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger… What offering can the stranger bri… Of social scenes, home—bred deligh…
This picture does the story expres… Of Moses in the bulrushes. How livelily the painter’s hand By colours makes us understand! Moses that little infant is.
WHEN maidens such as Hester die Their place ye may not well supply… Though ye among a thousand try With vain endeavour. A month or more hath she been dead…
A bird appears a thoughtless thing… He’s ever living on the wing, And keeps up such a carolling, That little else to do but sing A man would guess had he.
A Creole boy from the West Indie… To be in European learning taught… Some years before to Westminster… To a preparatory school was sent. When from his artless tale the mis…
'Why so I will, you noisy bird, This very day I’ll advertise you, Perhaps some busy ones may prize y… A fine—tongued parrot as was ever… I’ll word it thus—set forth all ch…
A dinner party, coffee, tea, Sandwich, or supper, all may be In their way pleasant. But to me Not one of these deserves the prai… That welcomer of new—born days,
There, Robert, you have kill’d th… And should you thousand ages try The life you’ve taken to supply, You could not do it. You surely must have been devoid
Anger in its time and place May assume a kind of grace. It must have some reason in it, And not last beyond a minute. If to further lengths it go,
'A wicked action fear to do, When you are by yourself; for thou… You think you can conceal it, A little bird that’s in the air The hidden trespass shall declare,
The month was June, the day was h… And Philip had an orange got, The fruit was fragrant, tempting,… Refreshing to the smell and sight; Not of that puny size which calls
Horatio, of ideal courage vain, Was flourishing in air his father’… And, as the fumes of valour swelle… Now thought himself this hero, and… ‘And now,’ he cried, 'I will Achi…
To Jesus our Saviour some parents… Their children—what fears and what… When this the disciples would fain… Our Saviour reproved their unseas… Not only free leave to come to him…
Arrayed—a half angelic sight— In nests of pure baptismal white, The mother to the font doth bring The little, helpless, nameless thi… With hushes soft, and mild caressi…
A timid grace sits trembling in he… As loath to meet the rudeness of m… Yet shedding a delicious lunar lig… That steeps in kind oblivious ecst… The care—crazed mind, like some st…