#EnglishWriters #Victorian
DOUBT spake no word in me as the… Loathing, I could not praise: I c… God for the cup of evil that I dr… I dared not cry upon His strength… My soul from weapons it was bent t…
Mother, is this the darkness of th… The Shadow of Death? and is that… Infinite imminent Eternity? And does the death—pang by man’s s… In Time’s each instant cause thy…
(In the Academy of Bruges) MYSTERY: God, man’s life, born… Of woman. There abideth on her br… The ended pang of knowledge, the w… Is calm assured. Since first her…
SAY, is it day, is it dusk in thy… Thou whom I long for, who longest… Oh! be it light, be it night, 'tis… Love’s that is fettered as Love’s… Free love has leaped to that inner…
OLTRE tomba Qualche cosa? E che ne dici? Saremo felici? Terra mai posa,
IN this new shade of Death, the s… Passes me still of form and face; Some bent, some gazing as they go, Some swiftly, some at a dull pace, Not one that speaks in any case.
THE hop—shop is shut up: the nigh… Here, early, Collinson this eveni… “Into the gulfs of sleep”; and De… Has turned upon the pivot of his c… The whole of this night long; and…
AS he that loves oft looks on the… And guesses how it grew to womanho… And gladly would have watched the… And the mild fire of precious life… So I, long bound within the three…
By thine own tears thy song must t… O Singer! Magic mirror thou hast… Except thy manifest heart; and sav… Anguish or ardour, else no amulet. Cisterned in Pride, verse is the…
Great Michelangelo, with age grow… And uttermost labours, having once… All grievous memories on his long… This worst regret to one true hear… That when, with sorrowing love and…
Epitaph All beauty to pourtray, Therein his duty lay, And still through toilsome strife Duty to him was life—
I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights arou…
The hour which might have been yet… Which man’s and woman’s heart conc… Yet whereof life was barren,—on wh… Bides it the breaking of Time’s w… Bondchild of all consummate joys s…
TO—NIGHT this sunset spreads tw… Cleaving the western sky; Winged too with wind it is, and wi… Of birds; as if the day’s last hou… Of strenuous flight must die.
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…
