#EnglishWriters #Victorian
How large that thrush looks on the… A swarm of such, three little mont… Had hidden in the leaves and let n… Save by the outburst of their mins… A white flake here and there—a sno…
O Thou who at Love’s hour ecstati… Unto my lips dost evermore present The body and blood of Love in sac… Whom I have neared and felt thy b… The inmost incense of his sanctuar…
Warmed by her hand and shadowed by… As close she leaned and poured her… Whereof the articulate throbs acco… The smooth black stream that makes… Sweet fluttering sheet, even of he…
Was that the landmark? What,—the… Whose wave, low down, I did not s… But sat and flung the pebbles from… In sport to send its imaged skies… (And mine own image, had I noted…
THE weltering London ways where… And girls whom none call maidens l… Miring his outward steps, who inly… The bright Castalian brink and La… Even such his life’s cross-paths;…
The cuckoo—throb, the heartbeat of… The rosebud’s blush that leaves it… Into the full—eyed fair unblushing… The summer clouds that visit every… With fires of sunrise and of sunse…
'Twixt those twin worlds,—the worl… No dream to warn,—the tidal world… Which the earth’s sea, as the eart… Shelley, Song’s orient sun, to br… Rose from this couch that morn. A…
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…
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…
Afar away the light that brings co… Unto this wall, —one instant and n… Admitted at my distant palace—door… Afar the flowers of Enna from thi… Dire fruit, which, tasted once, mu…
This word had Merlin said from of… That out of the Oak Tree Shade In the day of France’s direst dul… God’s hand should send a Maid. And where Domremy, by Burgundy,
Sometimes I fain would find in th… That I might love thee still in s… Yet how should our Lord Love curt… Thy perfect praise whom most he wo… Alas! he can but make my heart’s l…
O lovely hand, that thy sweet self… In that thy pure and proper elemen… Whence erst the Lady of Love’s hi… Was born, and endless fires sprang… Even as her Loves to her their of…
O Lord of all compassionate contr… O Love! let this my lady’s pictur… Under my hand to praise her name,… Even of her inner self the perfect… That he who seeks her beauty’s fur…
Eat thou and drink; to—morrow thou… Surely the earth, that’s wise bein… Needs not our help. Then loose me… Thy sultry hair up from my face; t… May pour for thee this golden wine…
