#EnglishWriters #Victorian
O lovely hand, that thy sweet self… In that thy pure and proper elemen… Whence erst the Lady of Love’s hi… Was born, and endless fires sprang… Even as her Loves to her their of…
This is that blessed Mary, pre—el… God’s Virgin. Gone is a great whi… Dwelt young in Nazareth of Galile… Unto God’s will she brought devou… Profound simplicity of intellect,
Young Love lies sleeping In May—time of the year, Among the lilies, Lapped in the tender light: White lambs come grazing,
A REMOTE sky, prolonged to the… One rock—point standing buffeted a… Vexed at its base with a foul beas… Hell—birth of geomaunt and teraphi… A knight, and a winged creature be…
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…
IN grappled ships around The Vic… Three boys did England’s Duty wit… While one dread truth was kept fro… More dire than deafening fire that… For in the flag—ship’s weltering c…
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…
The changing guests, each in a dif… Sit at the roadside table and aris… And every life among them in like… Is a soul’s board set daily with n… What man has bent o’er his son’s s…
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…
Under the arch of Life, where lov… Terror and mystery, guard her shri… Beauty enthroned; and though her g… I drew it in as simply as my breat… Hers are the eyes which, over and…
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…
What of her glass without her? Th… There where the pool is blind of t… Her dress without her? The tossed… Of cloud—rack whence the moon has… Her paths without her? Day’s appo…
(To M.F.R.) SISTER, first shake we off the… Upon our feet, lest it defile the… Inscriptured, covering their sacre… Who lie i’ the aisles which keep t…
Our Lombard country-girls along t… Wear daggers in their garters: for… That they might hate another girl… Or meet a German lover. Such a kn… I bought her, with a hilt of horn…
THE weltering London ways where… And girls whom none call maidens l… Miring his outward steps, who inly… The bright Castalian brink and La… Even such his life’s cross-paths;…
