#EnglishWriters #FemaleWriters
Whatever else I see, I still see… I shut my eyes to see nought else…
By the pure spring, whose haunted… Through thy sequestered dell unto… At sunny noon, I will appear to t… Not troubling the still fount with… As when I last took leave of it,…
Like one who walketh in a plenteou… By flowing waters, under shady tre… Through sunny meadows, where the s… Feed in the thyme and clover; on e… Fair gardens lying, where of fruit…
Better trust all, and be deceived, And weep that trust, and that dece… Than doubt one heart, that, if bel… Had blessed one’s life with true b… Oh, in this mocking world, too fas…
Beside a well-reap’d field at Eve… One laid him down to rest who’d wa… And fought and wounded been in Li… ‘These have done well their work,’… ‘But on mine armour blots of earth…
Why art thou weeping Over the happy, happy dead, Who are gone away, From this life of clay, From this fount of tears,
Art thou already weary of the way? Thou who hast yet but half the way… Get up, and lift thy burthen: lo,… Thy feet the road goes stretching… If thou already faint, who hast bu…
As o’er the chasm I breathless hu… Thus from the depths the siren sun… “Down, down into the womb Of earth, the daylight’s tomb, Where the sun’s eyes
A maiden meek, with solemn, steadf… Full of eternal constancy and fait… And smiling lips, through whose so… Truth’s holy voice, with every bal… So journeys she along life’s crowd…
Never, oh never more! shall I beh… Thy form so fair; Or loosen from its braids the ripp… Of thy long hair. Never, oh never more! shall I be…
Oh that I were a fairy sprite, to… In forest paths, o’erarched with o… Where the sun’s yellow light, in s… Sleeps on the dewy moss: what time… Of early morn stirs the white hawt…
If there were any power in human l… Or in th’ intensest longing of the… Then should the oceans and the lan… Ye from my sight all unprevailing… Then should the yearning of my bos…
Say thou not sadly, ‘never,’ and ‘… But from thy lips banish those fal… While life remains that which was… Again may be thine; in Time’s sto… Days, hours, and moments, that hav…
What though the sun must set, and… Shall we turn coldly from the bles… And o’er the heavens call an earli… Because the longest day must end i… What though the golden summer flie…
A BRITISH TRANSPORT… A BALLAD. As well as I am able, I’ll relate… And I trust, sirs, you’ll excuse… I’ve lived a hard and wandering li…