#EnglishWriters #Victorian
In whomsoe’er, since Poesy began, A Poet most of all men we may sca… Burns of all poets is the most a…
One flame—winged brought a white—w… Even where my lady and I lay all… Saying: “Behold, this minstrel is… Bid him depart, for I am minstrel… Only my strains are to Love’s dea…
HO ye that nothing have to lose!… Come from the sinks of the New Cu… Did ye not hear the mighty sound b… The Seven Dials strike the hour o… Ho cock your eyes, my gallant pals…
By none but me can the tale be tol… The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold… (Lands are swayed by a King on a… 'Twas a royal train put forth to s… Yet the tale can be told by none b…
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…
So now the changed year’s turning… And as a girl sails balanced in th… And now before and now again behin… Stoops as it swoops, with cheek th… So Spring comes merry towards me…
“WHY wilt thou cast the roses fro… Nay, be thou all a rose,—wreath, l… Nay, not this house,—that banquet—… See how they kiss and enter; come… This delicate day of love we two w…
HERE lies Duns Scotus Who died of lotus.
Tell me now in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman? Where’s Hipparchia, and where is… Neither of them the fairer woman? Where is Echo, beheld of no man,
This feast—day of the sun, his alt… In the broad west has blazed for v… And I have loitered in the vale t… And gaze now a belated worshipper. Yet may I not forget that I was '…
Chins that might serve the new Je… Streets footsore; minute whisking… Dubbed graceful, but at whom one’s… Knowing of England; ladies, much… Bland smiling dogs with manes—a fe…
Here meet together the prefiguring… And day prefigured. “Eating, thou… Feet shod, loins girt, thy road—st… With blood—stained door and lintel… By Moses’ mouth in ages passed aw…
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…
How sweet a solace is the bridal—b… Dawn as prepared, evening as hallo…
What other woman could be loved li… Or how of you should love possess… After the fulness of all rapture,… As at the end of some deep avenue A tender glamour of day,—there com…