#English #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
In answer to those who have said t… give no personal love to their cou… ENGLAND, my country, austere in… Set in the seat of the mighty, wie… Have we but sung of your glory, fi…
ALL the flight of thoughts here,… Fluttering in the sun, between the… Wheeling, whirling, poising, lovel… How to cage the flying thoughts, m… Set a springe of rhyme, and hope t…
NOT to the terrible God, avengin… Whose altars struck their roots in… Not to the jealous God, whose mer… The infamy of unclean years withst… But to the God who lit the evenin…
WHEN head and hands and heart al… When Hope with folded wings sinks… When all thy striving fails to dis… From out wrong’s skein the golden… When all thy knowledge seems a mar…
OUT of the west when the sun was… Clouds of white wings came flying,… Wheeling and whirling they swept a… Into the heart of the eastern gray… But one white dove came straight t…
BIRDS in the green of my garden Blackbirds and throstle and wren, Wet your dear wings in the tears t… And so to your singing again! Birds in my blossoming orchard,
What will you give me for this hea… No heart of gold, and yet my deare… It has its graces, it can ache and… And beat true time to your sweet v… It bears your name, it lives but f…
THIS is the day of our glory; th… Under her dusty laurels England s… Dreams of her days of honour, terr… Days of the making of story, days… When all her fate and her future h…
Did you deceive me? Did I trust A heart of fire to a heart of dust… What matter? Since once the world… And you gave me the rose of the wo… That was the time to live for! Fl…
NOW the vexed clouds, wind-driven… Long leaning wings across the sea… The waves creep back bequeathing t… The treasure-house of their desert… And where the nearer waves curl wh…
_Who Died on October 25th_, 1899. THERE was a day, A horrible Autumn day, When from her home, the home she m… And that day made a nightmare of w…
A PRINCESS, sleeping in enchan… Earth springs to waking at Spring… And after winter’s cold, unlovely… Laughs out to find how beautiful s… Spring flings a song across the fi…
NEVER a ring or a lock of hair Or a letter stained with tears, No crown for the princely hour to… To be mocked of the rebel years. Not a spoken vow, not a written pa…
IF I might build a palace, fair With every joy of soul and sense, And set my heart as sentry there To guard your happy innocence— If I might plant a hedge so stron…
(IRIS.) DADDY dear, I’m only four And I’d rather not be more: Four’s the nicest age to be— Two and two, or one and three.