#EnglishWriters #FemaleWriters #VictorianWriters
A toadstool comes up in a night, — Learn the lesson, little folk: — An oak grows on a hundred years, But then it is an oak.
Hope new born one pleasant morn Died at even; Hope dead lives nevermore. No, not in heaven. If his shroud were but a cloud
Mother shake the cherry—tree, Susan catch a cherry; Oh how funny that will be, Let’s be merry! One for brother, one for sister,
The peach tree on the southern wal… Has basked so long beneath the sun… Her score of peaches great and sma… Bloom rosy, every one. A peach for brothers, one for each…
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…
What do the stars do Up in the sky, Higher than the wind can blow, Or the clouds can fly? Each star in its own glory
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
The door was shut. I looked betwe… Its iron bars; and saw it lie, My garden, mine, beneath the sky, Pied with all flowers bedewed and… From bough to bough the song—birds…
I planted a hand And there came up a palm, I planted a heart And there came up balm. Then I planted a wish,
Lo dì che han detto a’ dolci amici… Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vi… Come back to me, who wait and watc… Or come not yet, for it is over th… And long it is before you come aga…
Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,
Brown and furry Caterpillar in a hurry, Take your walk To the shady leaf, or stalk, Or what not,
When fishes set umbrellas up If the rain—drops run, Lizards will want their parasols To shade them from the sun.
Three sang of love together: one w… Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in… Flushed to the yellow hair and fin… And one there sang who soft and sm… Bloomed like a tinted hyacinth at…
A cold wind stirs the blackthorn To burgeon and to blow, Besprinkling half—green hedges With flakes and sprays of snow. Through coldness and through keenn…