#EnglishWriters
Dear things! we would not have you… Your Ignorance is so charming! We… That greater knowledge might not l… Sure aid to blind obedience and de…
We thank Thee, Lord, for one day To look Heaven in the face! The Poor have only Sunday; The sweeter is the grace. 'Tis then they make the music
No green age, beautiful to see, Hath Poor Old Gran! No ripe life mellowed goldenly Hath Poor Old Gran! One by one we have left her fold,
Surrounded by unnumbered Foes, Against my soul the battle goes! Yet though I weary, sore-distress… I know that I shall reach my Rest… I lift my tearful eyes above,—
There lives a voice within me, a g… And its sweet lispings win me, til… Up evermore it springeth, like som… And evermore it singeth this sweet… This world is full of beauty, as o…
You perfect, pure, original, Writ in a tongue unknown to all; Translated, in some other sphere, You may be read; but will not here…
WHEN the merry spring-tide Floods all the land; Nature hath a Mother’s heart, Gives with open hand; Flowers running up the lane
‘TIS hard to die in Spring-time, When, to mock our bitter need, All life around runs over In its fullness without heed: New life for tiniest twig on tree,
“So many are your foes, their arro… The very Sun with an eclipsing cl… “We’ll fight them in the dark then… Illumine with the lightning of the…
Egypt! how I have dwelt with you… So long, so intimately, that it se… As if you had borne me; though I… It was so many thousand years ago! And in my gropings darkly undergro…
WE are not only where we seem To live, but in some Astral gleam Dwell also in a world of dream! Some heavenward window opes above The shut-up soul, to lean out of,
The Delian diver wrecked her life… A pearl she saw by Visionary glea… And died with empty hand that coul… The treasure only Real in her dre…
The stream of Life that brimmed i… We drain to gather Wisdom’s grain… And often as we count the riches o… Half wish our wealth were drowned…
SPIRIT Divine, we yearn and str… Within our souls to keep alive Some likeness of Thy love! But 'tis at best a glimpse, a glea… Uncertain as a troubled stream
Who would not wish the Dead were… If we can dry the mourners’ tear? Who would not pray the Dead may s… When starving Orphans wake to wee…
