#EnglishWriters
The Castle Down the Savoy valleys sounding, Echoing round this castle old, 'Mid the distant mountain-chalets Hark! what bell for church is toll…
THEY are gone: all is still: Foo… Nothing moves on the lawn but the… Far up gleams the house, and benea… Here lean, my head, on this cool b… Ere he come: ere the boat, by the…
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is… And ease from shame, and rest from… There’s nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid brow… But is a calm like this, in truth,
A region desolate and wild, Black, chafing water: and afloat, And lonely as a truant child In a waste wood, a single boat: No mast, no sails are set thereon;
“O monstrous, dead, unprofitable w… That thou canst hear, and hearing,… A voice oracular hath peal’d to-da… To-day a hero’s banner is unfurl’d… Hast thou no lip for welcome?”—So…
Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again. For then the night will more than… The hopeless longing of the day. Come, as thou cam’st a thousand ti…
GOD knows it, I am with you. If… Those virtues, priz’d and practis’… But priz’d, but lov’d, but eminent… Man’s fundamental life: if to desp… The barren optimistic sophistries
Others abide our question. Thou a… We ask and ask—Thou smilest and a… Out-topping knowledge. For the lo… Who to the stars uncrowns his maje… Planting his steadfast footsteps i…
TRISTRAM Raise the light, my Page, that I… Thou art come at last then, haught… Long I’ve waited, long I’ve fough… Late thou comest, cruel thou hast…
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen’d by deep boughs on either… And at its end, to stay the eye, Those black-crown’d, red-boled pin… Birds here make song, each bird ha…
TRISTRAM IS she not come? The messenger wa… Prop me upon the pillows once agai… Raise me, my Page: this cannot lo… Christ! what a night! how the slee…
In this fair stranger’s eyes of gr… Thine eyes, my love, I see. I shudder: for the passing day Had borne me far from thee. This is the curse of life! that no…
Hark! ah, the nightingale— The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what… What triumph! hark!—what pain! O wanderer from a Grecian shore,
Thou, who dost dwell alone; Thou, who dost know thine own; Thou, to whom all are known, From the cradle to the grave,— Save, O, save!
AFFECTIONS, Instincts, Princ… Impulse and Reason, Freedom and… So men, unravelling God’s harmoni… Rend in a thousand shreds this lif… Vain labour! Deep and broad, wher…