#EnglishWriters #Victorian
It is grey tingling azure overhead With silver drift. Beneath, where… The trees are reared, the distance… At peace: and on this side the who… For sowing and for harvest, subjec…
There came an image in Life’s ret… That had Love’s wings and bore hi… Fair was the web, and nobly wrough… O soul—sequestered face, thy form… Bewildering sounds, such as Sprin…
HIS Soul fared forth (as from th… The father—songster plies the hour… To feed his soul—brood hungering i… But his warm Heart, the mother—bi… Their callow fledgling progeny sti…
As growth of form or momentary gla… In a child’s features will recall… The father’s with the mother’s fac… Sweet interchange that memories st… And yet, as childhood’s years and…
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…
Our Lombard country-girls along t… Wear daggers in their garters: for… That they might hate another girl… Or meet a German lover. Such a kn… I bought her, with a hilt of horn…
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,
How sweet a solace is the bridal—b… Dawn as prepared, evening as hallo…
We are upon the Scheldt. We know… Because there is a floating at our… Whatso they seek; and because all… Which on our outset were distinct… Are smaller and much weaker and qu…
Could you not drink her gaze like… Yet though its splendour swoon Into the silence languidly As a tune into a tune, Those eyes unravel the coiled nigh…
The hour which might have been yet… Which man’s and woman’s heart conc… Yet whereof life was barren,—on wh… Bides it the breaking of Time’s w… Bondchild of all consummate joys s…
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…
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…
Andromeda, by Perseus sav’d and w… Hanker’d each day to see the Gorg… Till o’er a fount he held it, bade… And mirror’d in the wave was safel… That death she liv’d by.
I Catherine am a Douglas born, A name to all Scots dear; And Kate Barlass they’ve called m… Through many a waning year. This old arm’s withered now. ‘Twa…
