#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Because our talk was of the cloud—… And moon—track of the journeying f… Her tremulous kisses faltered at l… And her eyes dreamed against a dis… But soon, remembering her how brie…
MY young lord’s the lover Of earth and sky above, Of youth’s sway and youth’s play, Of songs and flowers and love. Yet for love’s desire
HONEY—FLOWERS to the honey—c… And the honey—bee’s from home. A honey—comb and a honey—flower, And the bee shall have his hour. A honeyed heart for the honey—comb…
In whomsoe’er, since Poesy began, A Poet most of all men we may sca… Burns of all poets is the most a…
The city’s steeple—towers remove a… Each singly; as each vain infatuat… Leaves God in heaven, and passes.… Each soon appears, so far. Yet th… The first is now scarce further or…
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…
Never happy any more! Aye, turn the saying o’er and o’er… It says but what it said before, And heart and life are just as sor… The wet leaves blow aslant the flo…
Sometimes she is a child within mi… Cowering beneath dark wings that l… With still tears showering and ave… Inexplicably fill’d with faint ala… And oft from mine own spirit’s hur…
I stood where Love in brimming ar… Slight wanton flowers and foolish… And round him ladies thronged in w… Fingered and lipped and proffered… And from one hand the petal and th…
When first that horse, within whos… The birth was death, o’ershadowed… Her elders, dubious of its Grecia… Brought Helen there to sing the s… She whispered, “Friends, I am alo…
Epitaph All beauty to pourtray, Therein his duty lay, And still through toilsome strife Duty to him was life—
This is her picture as she was: It seems a thing to wonder on, As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when myself am gone. I gaze until she seems to stir,—
UPON the landscape of his coming… A youth high—gifted gazed, and fou… The heights of work, the floods of… What friendships, what desires, wh… All things to come. The fanned sp…
Have you not noted, in some family Where two were born of a first mar… How still they own their gracious… And nursed on the forgotten breast… How to their father’s children the…
The cuckoo—throb, the heartbeat of… The rosebud’s blush that leaves it… Into the full—eyed fair unblushing… The summer clouds that visit every… With fires of sunrise and of sunse…