#EnglishWriters
Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and su… Of linen, go the chanting choriste… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…
WHEN into the night the yellow l… Or like a mist the moon has kissed… Our faces flower for a little hour… Daisies that waken all mistaken wh… The luminous mist which the poor t…
If I could have put you in my hea… If but I could have wrapped you i… How glad I should have been! And now the chart Of memory unrolls again to me
The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun… The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black… Sweep past the window again. Along the vacant road, a red
This spring as it comes bursts up… Wild puffing of emerald trees, and… Thorn—blossom lifting in wreaths o… Where the wood fumes up and the wa… I am amazed at this spring, this c…
Do you remember How night after night swept level… Overhead, at home, and had not one… Nor one narrow gate for the moon t… Forth to her field of November.
Tell me a word that you’ve often heard, yet it makes you squint when you see it in print! Tell me a thing
The quick sparks on the gorse bush… Little jets of sunlight—texture im… Above them, exultant, the peewits… They are lords of the desolate was… Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth,…
The frost has settled down upon th… And ruthlessly strangled off the f… Of leaves that have gone unnoticed… Romantic stories now no more to be… The trees down the boulevard stand…
I felt the lurch and halt of her h… Next my breast, where my own heart… And I laughed to feel it plunge a… And strange in my blood-swept ears… Of the words I kept repeating,
Ah in the thunder air how still the trees are! And the lime—tree, lovely and tall… hardly looses even a last breath o… And the ghostly, creamy coloured l…
And who has seen the moon, who has… Her rise from out the chamber of t… Flushed and grand and naked, as fr… Of finished bridegroom, seen her r… Confession of delight upon the wav…
Somewhere the long mellow note of… Quickens the unclasping hands of h… Somewhere the wind—flowers fling t… Stirred by an impetuous wind. Som… All be sweet with white and blue v…
Between the avenues of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks, and s… Of linen, go the chaunting chorist… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…
And all hours long, the town Roars like a beast in a cave That is wounded there And like to drown; While days rush, wave after wave