#EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
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…
IT’S copied out at last: very poo… Writ in the cold, with pauses of t… Direct, dear William, to the Post… At Ghent—here written Gand—Gong,… We go to Antwerp first, but shall…
In our Museum galleries To—day I lingered o’er the prize Dead Greece vouchsafes to living… Her Art for ever in fresh wise From hour to hour rejoicing me.
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in… There more than elsewhere,—is the… The right sown there hath still bo… The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence,… O’er weapons blessed for carnage,…
AH! dear one, we were young so lo… It seemed that youth would never g… For skies and trees were ever in s… And water in singing flow In the days we never again shall k…
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’…
Beauty like hers is genius. Not t… Of Homer’s or of Dante’s heart su… Not Michael’s hand furrowing the… Is more with compassed mysteries m… Nay, not in Spring’s or Summer’s…
What dawn—pulse at the heart of he… Incarnate flower of culminating da… What marshalled marvels on the ski… Or song full—quired, sweet June’s… What glory of change by Nature’s…
Sweet stream—fed glen, why say “fa… Who far’st so well and find’st for… The brow of Time where man may re… Nay, do thou rather say “farewell”… Who now fare forth in bitterer fan…
THERE’S a female bard, grim as… Who daily grows shakier and shakie…
Not in thy body is thy life at all But in this lady’s lips and hands… Through these she yields thee life… What else were sorrow’s servant an… Look on thyself without her, and r…
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…
What thing unto mine ear Wouldst thou convey,—what secret t… O wandering water ever whispering? Surely thy speech shall be of her. Thou water, O thou whispering wan…
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…
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.…