#EnglishWriters #Victorian
PER carità, Mostrami amore: Mi punge il cuore, Ma non si sa Dove è amore.
LAY your head here, Mary, Lay your head here, While the blown grass, Mary, With timid voice and wary, Sings in your ear:—
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…
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…
As the child knows not if his moth… Be fair; nor of his elders yet can… What each most is; but as of hill… At dawn, all glimmering life surro… Who yet, tow’rd noon of his half—w…
From child to youth; from youth to… From lethargy to fever of the hear… From faithful life to dream—dowere… From trust to doubt; from doubt to… Thus much of change in one swift c…
WHAT masque of what old wind—wit… Honours this Lady? Flora, wanton—… For birth, and with all flowrets p… Aurora, Zephyrus, with mutual che… Of clasp and kiss: the Graces cir…
Love to his singer held a glisteni… And said: “The rose—tree and the… Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to… And golden shafts are in the feath… Of the great harvest—marshal, the…
“Why did you melt your waxen man Sister Helen? To—day is the third since you bega… “The time was long, yet the time r… Little brother.”
THESE little firs to—day are thi… To clasp into a giant’s cap, Or fans to suit his lady’s lap. From many winters many springs Shall cherish them in strength and…
The gloom that breathes upon me wi… Is like the drops which stike the… Who knows not, darkling, if they b… Fresh storm, or be old rain the co… Ah! bodes this hour some harvest o…
Love hath a chamber all of imagery… And there is one dim nook, A little storied web wherein my he… From leaf to leaf is read as in a… One part in the middle of the web…
Think thou and act; to—morrow thou… Outstretch’d in the sun’s warmth u… Thou say’st: ‘Man’s measured path… Up all his years, steeply, with st… Man clomb until he touch’d the tru…
Was that the landmark? What,—the… Whose wave, low down, I did not s… But sat and flung the pebbles from… In sport to send its imaged skies… (And mine own image, had I noted…
THERE is a cloud above the sunse… That wends and makes no stay, For its goal lies beyond the fiery… A lingering breath no calm can cha… The onward labour of the wind’s la…