#English #Victorians
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…
AND didst thou know indeed, when… Together with thy name thou gav’st… That also on thy son must Beatric… Decline her eyes according to her… Accepting me to be of those that h…
O COOL unto the sense of pain That last night’s sleep could not… O warm unto the sense of joy, That dreams its life within the br… What though I lean o’er thee to s…
THERE’S a female bard, grim as… Who daily grows shakier and shakie…
A constant keeping—past of shaken… And a bewildered glitter of loose… Banks of bright growth, with singl… Against white sky; and wires—a con… That seem to draw the clouds along…
O thou who at Love’s hour ecstati… Unto my heart dost evermore presen… Clothed with his fire, thy heart h… Whom I have neared and felt thy b… The inmost incense of his sanctuar…
On this sweet bank your head thric… I lay, and spread your hair on eit… And see the newborn woodflowers ba… Look through the golden tresses he… On these debateable borders of the…
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…
“Thou Ghost,” I said, “and is thy… Yesterday’s son, with such an abje… And can To—morrow be more pale th… While yet I spoke, the silence an… Henceforth our issue is all grieve…
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…
The gloom that breathes upon me wi… Is like the drops which strike the… Who knows not, darkling, if they b… Fresh storm, or be old rain the co… Ah! bodes this hour some harvest o…
THESE little firs to—day are thi… To clasp into a giant’s cap, Or fans to suit his lady’s lap. From many winters many springs Shall cherish them in strength and…
Beholding youth and hope in mocker… From life; and mocking pulses that… When the soul’s death of bodily de… Honour unknown, and honour known u… And penury’s sedulous self—torturi…
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.
Eat thou and drink; to—morrow thou… Surely the earth, that’s wise bein… Needs not our help. Then loose me… Thy sultry hair up from my face; t… May pour for thee this golden wine…
