#English #Victorians #XIXCentury
Look in my face; my name is Might… I am also call’d No—more, Too—lat… Unto thine ear I hold the dead—se… Cast up thy Life’s foam—fretted f… Unto thine eyes the glass where th…
DERE was an old nigger, and him… And him tale was rather slow; Me try to read de whole, but me on… Because me found it no go. Den hang up de auther Mrs. Stowe,
Sweet dimness of her loosened hair… About thy face; her sweet hands ro… In gracious fostering union garlan… Her tremulous smiles; her glances’… Of love; her murmuring sighs memor…
UNCERTAIN—AGED Miss Thereab… Tough fossil of her teens, Has lifted up with saving hand The ruined Smithereens. Down the dark steps of debt that h…
Not in thy body is thy life at all… But in this lady’s lips and hands… Through these she yields thee life… What else were sorrow’s servant an… Look on thyself without her, and r…
Some prisoned moon in steep cloud—… Throned queen and thralled; some d… Blazed with momentous memorable fi… Who hath not yearned and fed his h… Who, sleepless, hath not anguished…
“DIGITUM tuum, Thoma, Infer, et vide manûs! Manum tuam, Thoma, Affer, et mitte in latus.” “Dominus et Deus,
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…
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…
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,
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…
Love hath a chamber all of imagery… And there is one dim nook, A little storied web wherein my he… From leaf to leaf is read as in a… One part in the middle of the web…
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…
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…
