#EnglishWriters
A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of Tim… Brimming with wonder and joy He spreads out his arms to the lig…
A YEAR had flown, and o’er the s… In Cornwall, Tristram and queen… In 3 King Marc’s chapel, in Tynt… There in a ship they bore those lo… The young surviving Iseult, one b…
Set where the upper streams of Si… Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock… And Hector was in Ilium, far belo… And fought, and saw it not—but the… It stood, and sun and moonshine ra…
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!
Foil’d by our fellow-men, depress’… We leave the brutal world to take… And, Patience! in another life, w… The world shall be thrust down, an… And will not, then, the immortal a…
Light flows our war of mocking wor… Behold, with tears mine eyes are w… I feel a nameless sadness o’er me… Yes, yes, we know that we can jest… We know, we know that we can smile…
God knows it, I am with you. If t… 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
In the deserted, moon-blanched str… How lonely rings the echo of my fe… Those windows, which I gaze at, f… Silent and white, unopening down, Repellent as the world,—but see,
‘In harmony with Nature’? Restles… Who with such heat dost preach wha… When true, the last impossibility; To be like Nature strong, like Na… Know, man hath all which Nature h…
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 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…
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffu… With rain, where thick the crocus… Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from Saint Laurent… The bridge is cross’d, and slow we…
'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,
“Miserere, Domine! The words are utter’d, and they flee. Deep is their penitential moan, Mighty their pathos, but ’tis gone. They have declared the spirit’s sore Sore load, and words ca...
The Castle Down the Savoy valleys sounding, Echoing round this castle old, 'Mid the distant mountain-chalets Hark! what bell for church is toll…
