#EnglishWriters
Long long ago, when all the glitte… Was heaven itself, when drunkards… Were like mazed kings shaking at g… To acts of war that sickle men lik… When the white clover opened Para…
Is there a great green commonwealt… Which ranks the yearly pageant, an… How Summer’s royal progress shall… By secret stir which in each plant… Does rocking daffodil consent that…
One road leads to London, One road leads to Wales, My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails. One road leads to the river,
We’re bound for blue water where t… It’s time to get the tacks aboard,… The crowd’s at the capstan and the… “A long pull, a strong pull, and w… The bow-wash is eddying, spreading…
Here in the self is all that man c… Of Beauty, all the wonder, all th… All the unearthly colour, all the… Here in the self which withers lik… Here in the self which fades as ho…
The meet was at “The Cock and Py… By Charles and Martha Enderby,” The grey, three-hundred-year-old i… Long since the haunt of Benjamin The highwayman, who rode the bay.
Oh yesterday, I t’ink it was, whi… I met with Bill. —“Hullo,” he say… We’d red bandanas round our necks… So we filled a couple of Santy Cr… We scooted south with a press of s…
We were schooner-rigged and rakish… And we flew the pretty colours of… We’d a big black Jolly Roger flap… And we sailed the Spanish Water i… We’d a long brass gun amidships, l…
All day they loitered by the resti… Telling their beauties over, takin… At night the verdict left my messm… “The Wanderer is the finest ship… I had not seen her, but a friend,…
I never see the red rose crown the… Nor feel the young grass underneat… Without the thought “This living… Is earth’s remembrance of a beauty… Surely where all this glory is dis…
I have seen dawn and sunset on moo… Coming in solemn beauty like slow… I have seen the lady April bringi… Bringing the springing grass and t… I have heard the song of the bloss…
It’s a warm wind, the west wind, f… I never hear the west wind but tea… For it comes from the west lands,… And April’s in the west wind, and… It’s a fine land, the west land, f…
Oh some are fond of red wine, and… And some are all for dancing by th… But rum alone’s the tipple, and th… Of the old bold mate of Henry Mor… Oh some are fond of Spanish wine,…
Troy town is covered up with weeds… The rabbits and the pismires brood On broken gold, and shards, and be… Where Priam’s ancient palace stoo… The floors of many a gallant house
Mother Carey? She’s the mother o’… 'N’ all them sort o’ rips; She’s a fine gell to look at, but… She’s a sight too fond of ships; She lives upon an iceberg to the n…
