#English #Victorians
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…
THE hop—shop is shut up: the nigh… Here, early, Collinson this eveni… “Into the gulfs of sleep”; and De… Has turned upon the pivot of his c… The whole of this night long; and…
O RUFF—EMBASTIONED vast El… Bush to these bushel—bellied casks… Home—growth, 'tis true, but rank a… What would we with such skittle—pl… Say, must we watch these brawlers’…
The Orchard—Pit Piled deep below the screening app… They lie with bitter apples in the… And some are only ancient bones th… And some had ships that last year’…
Even as the moon grows queenlier i… When the sky darkens, and her clou… Thrills with intenser radiance fro… So lambent, lady, beams thy sovere… When the drear soul desires thee.…
‘There is a budding morrow in midn… So sang our Keats, our English ni… And here, as lamps across the brid… In London’s smokeless resurrectio… Dark breaks to dawn. But o’er the…
A REMOTE sky, prolonged to the… One rock—point standing buffeted a… Vexed at its base with a foul beas… Hell—birth of geomaunt and teraphi… A knight, and a winged creature be…
Soft—littered is the new—year’s la… And in the hollowed haystack at it… The shepherd lies o’ night now, wa… At the ewes’ travailing call throu… The young rooks cheep 'mid the thi…
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…
Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,
The mother will not turn, who thin… Her nursling’s speech first grow a… But breathless with averted eyes e… She sits, with open lips and open… That it may call her twice. 'Mid…
ROBE d’or, mais rien ne veut Qu’une rose à ses cheveux. A golden robe, yet will she wear Only a rose in her golden hair.
“Who rules these lands?” the Pilg… “Stranger, Queen Blanchelys.” “And who has thus harried them?” h… “It was Duke Luke did this: God’s ban be his!”
Let no man ask thee of anything Not yearborn between Spring and S… More of all worlds than he can kno… Each day the single sun doth show. A trustier gloss than thou canst g…
