#English #Victorians #Women
Sonnets are full of love, and this… Has many sonnets: so here now shal… One sonnet more, a love sonnet, fr… To her whose heart is my heart’s q… To my first Love, my Mother, on w…
A rose has thorns as well as honey… I’ll not have her for love or mone… An iris grows so straight and fine… That she shall be no friend of min… Snowdrops like the snow would chil…
Rushes in a watery place, And reeds in a hollow; A soaring skylark in the sky, A darting swallow; And where pale blossom used to han…
Why did baby die, Making Father sigh, Mother cry? Flowers, that bloom to die, Make no reply
I had a love in soft south land, Beloved through April far in May; He waited on my lightest breath, And never dared to say me nay. He saddened if my cheer was sad,
I wish I could remember the first… First hour, first moment of your m… If bright or dim the season, it mi… Summer or winter for aught I can… So unrecorded did it slip away,
Consider The lilies of the field whose bloo… We are as they; Like them we fade away, As doth a leaf.
Our little baby fell asleep, And may not wake again For days and days, and weeks and w… But then he’ll wake again, And come with his own pretty look,
‘There’s a footstep coming: look o… ‘The leaves are falling, the wind… No one cometh across the lea.’— ‘There’s a footstep coming: O sis… ‘The ripple flashes, the white foa…
Ten years ago it seemed impossible That she should ever grow so calm… With self—remembrance in her warme… And dim dried eyes like an exhaust… Slow—speaking when she had some fa…
Unmindful of the roses, Unmindful of the thorn, A reaper tired reposes Among his gathered corn: So might I, till the morn!
Hear now a curious dream I dreame… Each word whereof is weighed and s… I stood beside Euphrates while it… Like overflowing Jordan in its yo… It waxed and coloured sensibly to…
Love me —I love you, Love me, my baby; Sing it high, sing it low, Sing it as may be. Mother’s arms under you,
If all were rain and never sun, No bow could span the hill; If all were sun and never rain, There’d be no rainbow still.
Twist me a crown of wind—flowers; That I may fly away To hear the singers at their song, And players at their play. Put on your crown of wind—flowers:
