#English #Victorians
Watch thou and fear; to—morrow tho… Or art thou sure thou shalt have t… Is not the day which God’s word p… To come man knows not when? In yo… Now while we speak, the sun speeds…
As two whose love, first foolish,… Knows suddenly, to music high and… The Holy of holies; who because t… Are now amazed with shame, nor dar… With the whole truth aloud, lest h…
GETTING his pictures, like his… Far, far away in Belfast by the s… His watchful one—eyed uninvaded sl… MacCracken sleepeth. While the P… Must keep the shady side, he walks…
Once more the changed year’s turni… And as a girl sails balanced in th… And now before and now again behin… Stoops as it swoops, with cheek th… So Spring comes merry towards me…
Is it this sky’s vast vault or oce… That is Life’s self and draws my… And by instinct ineffable decree Holds my breath quailing on the bi… Nay, is it Life or Death, thus th…
REND, rend thine hair, Cassandra… Yea, rend thy garments, wring thin… From Troy still towered to the un… See, all but she that bore thee mo… He most whom that fair woman arms,…
HE turned his face apart, and gav… And a strange whimper—such a pitif… As haunts the heart for days. “Ye… Unto a pass so low that it seems h… And, when we see a brave and stron…
Gustave Flaubert, whose honoured… Was to be scribe to Nero’s soul, And make French flesh to creep an… O’er Carthaginian Salammbô, Lies here—in body, as in the brain…
LOVE, I speak to your heart, Your heart that is always here. Oh draw me deep to its sphere, Though you and I are apart, And yield, by the spirit’s art,
Whence came his feet into my field… How is it that he sees it all so d… How do I see his seeing, and how… The name his bitter silence knows… This was the little fold of separa…
Never happy any more! Aye, turn the saying o’er and o’er… It says but what it said before, And heart and life are just as sor… The wet leaves blow aslant the flo…
From child to youth; from youth to… From lethargy to fever of the hear… From faithful life to dream—dower’… From trust to doubt; from doubt to… Thus much of change in one swift c…
IT’S copied out at last: very poo… Writ in the cold, with pauses of t… Direct, dear William, to the Post… At Ghent—here written Gand—Gong,… We go to Antwerp first, but shall…
Consider the sea’s listless chime; Time’s self it is, made audible — The murmur of the earth’s own shel… Secret continuance sublime Is the sea’s end: our sight may pa…
Of her two fights with the Beryl—… Lost the first, but the second won… “MARY mine that art Mary’s Rose Come in to me from the garden—clos… The sun sinks fast with the rising…
