#EnglishWriters #Victorian
THROUGH one, years since hanged… Who stabbed backs by the Quarter, Here lieth one who—while Time’s s… Runneth, as God hath taught her, Bearing man’s fame to men,—will ha…
Is it the moved air or the moving… 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…
MY young lord’s the lover Of earth and sky above, Of youth’s sway and youth’s play, Of songs and flowers and love. Yet for love’s desire
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…
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…
THIS tree, here fall’n, no commo… Shared with its kind. The world’s… Who found the trees of Life and K… Here set it, frailer than his laur… Shall not the wretch whose hand it…
THERE’S a female bard, grim as… Who daily grows shakier and shakie…
In whomsoe’er, since Poesy began, A Poet most of all men we may sca… Burns of all poets is the most a…
Even as a child, of sorrow that we… The dead, but little in his heart… Since without need of thought to h… Their turn it is to die and his to… Even so the winged New Love smile…
So now the changed year’s turning… 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…
The gloom that breathes upon me wi… Is like the drops which stike the… Who knows not, darkling, if they b… Fresh storm, or be old rain the co… Ah! bodes this hour some harvest o…
So then, the name which travels si… With English life from childhood—… Means this. The sun is setting. “… Till the sunset, and ended,” says… It lacked the “chord” by stage—use…
Get thee behind me. Even as, heav… Stooping against the wind, a chari… Is snatched from out his chariot b… So shall Time be; and as the void… Abroad by reinless steeds, even so…
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…
What place so strange,—though unre… With unimaginable fires arise At the earth’s end,—what passion o… Like frost—bound fire—girt scenes… Lo! this is none but I this hour;…