#EnglishWriters #Victorian
It was Lilith the wife of Adam: (Sing Eden Bower!) Not a drop of her blood was human, But she was made like a soft sweet… Lilith stood on the skirts of Ede…
How sweet a solace is the bridal—b… Dawn as prepared, evening as hallo…
FROM him did forty million serfs… Each with six feet of death—due so… Rich freeborn lifelong land, where… Their country’s harvest. These to… Demand of Heaven a Father’s blood…
Sweet twining hedgeflowers wind—st… On this June day; and hand that c… Still glades; and meeting faces sc… An osier—odoured stream that draws… Deep to its heart; and mirrored ey…
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…
HONEY—FLOWERS to the honey—c… And the honey—bee’s from home. A honey—comb and a honey—flower, And the bee shall have his hour. A honeyed heart for the honey—comb…
SWEET Poet, thou of whom these… Must one day yet the burdened birt… And by the darkness of thine eyes… How piercing was the sight within… Gifted apart, thou goest to the gr…
A Sonnet is a moment’s monument, Memorial from the Soul’s eternity To one dead deathless hour. Look… Whether for lustral rite or dire p… Of its own arduous fulness reveren…
Love, should I fear death most fo… Yet if you die, can I not follow… Forcing the straits of change? Al… Shall wrest a bond from night’s in… Ere yet my hazardous soul put fort…
Know’st thou not at the fall of th… How the heart feels a languid grie… Laid on it for a covering, And how sleep seems a goodly thing In Autumn at the fall of the leaf…
LAY your head here, Mary, Lay your head here, While the blown grass, Mary, With timid voice and wary, Sings in your ear:—
Thin are the night-skirts left beh… By daybreak hours that onward cree… And thin, alas! the shred of sleep That wavers with the spirit’s wind… But in half-dreams that shift and…
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…
“THE silver cord is loosed,” he s… “The golden bowl is broken; A few more prayers having been pra… A few more love—words spoken, I shall turn my face unto the wall…
Sometimes she is a child within mi… Cowering beneath dark wings that l… With still tears showering and ave… Inexplicably fill’d with faint ala… And oft from mine own spirit’s hur…