#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…
Between the hands, between the bro… Between the lips of Love—Lily, A spirit is born whose birth endow… My blood with fire to burn through… Who breathes upon my gazing eyes,
Girt in dark growths, yet glimmeri… O night desirous as the nights of… Why should my heart within thy spe… Now beat, as the bride’s finger—pu… Quickened within the girdling gold…
Woolner and Stephens, Collinson,… And my first brother, each and eve… What portion is theirs now beneath… Which, even as here, in England m… For most of them life runs not the…
O leave your hand where it lies co… Upon the eyes whose lids are hot: Its rosy shade is bountiful Of silence, and assuages thought. O lay your lips against your hand
THAT voice I hear,—how heard I… Although my home is this, seems fr… There… still it trails along and m… Like the slow death of sound withi… Or like the humming whine in some…
Not I myself know all my love for… How should I reach so far, who ca… To—morrow’s dower by gage of yeste… Shall birth and death, and all dar… As doors and windows bared to some…
Think thou and act; to—morrow thou… Outstretch’d in the sun’s warmth u… Thou say’st: “Man’s measur’d path… Up all his years, steeply, with st… Man clomb until he touch’d the tru…
Silesian shepherd, blesed be The sequel of that history That I have read with heart elate… Entwining it with my own fate; So dear to me the visions seem
DID she in summer write it, or in… Or with this wail of autumn at her… Or in some winter left among old y… Scratched it through tettered cark… That round her heart the frost was…
Lady, I thank thee for thy loveli… Because my lady is more lovely sti… Glorying I gaze, and yield with g… To thee thy tribute; by whose swee… Of delicate life Love labours to…
Strong extreme speed, that the bra… Further than trees, and hedges, an… Whitened by distance,—further than… Held among fields and gardens,—fur… Haystacks and windmill—sails and r…
I never reared a young Wombat To glad me with his pin—hole eye, But when he most was sweet & fat And tail—less; he was sure to die!
Two separate divided silences, Which, brought together, would fin… Two glances which together would r… In love, now lost like stars beyon… Two hands apart whose touch alone…
