#EnglishWriters
I must go down to the seas again,… And all I ask is a tall ship and… And the wheel’s kick and the wind’… And a grey mist on the sea’s face,… I must go down to the seas again,…
NOT of the princes and prelates w… Riding triumphantly laurelled to l… Rather the scorned—the rejected—th… The men of the tattered battalion… Dazed with the dust of the battle,…
Out beyond the sunset could I but… Is a sleepy blue laguna which wide… And there’s the Blessed City &mda… The Golden City of St. Mary. It’s built of fair marble &mdash w…
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,…
When I am buried, all my thoughts… Will be reduced to lists of dates… And long before this wandering fle… The dates which made me will be al… And none will know the gleam there…
Friends and loves we have none, no… But the hope of the City of God a… Not for us are content, and quiet,… For we go seeking a city that we s… There is no solace on earth for us…
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…
It is good to be out on the road,… Going through meadow and village,… Through the grey light drift of th… Under the flying white clouds, and… And to halt at the chattering broo…
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…
Here, where we stood together, we… Before the war had swept us to the… Three thousand miles away, I stan… And hear the bells, and breathe, a… We trod the same path, to the self…
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,
A wind’s in the heart of me, a fi… I am tired of brick and stone and… I hunger for the sea’s edge, the l… Where the wild old Atlantic is sh… Oh I’ll be going, leaving the noi…
Be with me, Beauty, for the fire… My dog and I are old, too old for… Man, whose young passion sets the… Is soon too lame to march, too col… I take the book and gather to the…
Four bells were struck, the watch… All work aboard was over for the h… And some men sang and others playe… Or mended clothes or watched the s… The bursting west was like an open…
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…