#EnglishWriters
Days, when the ball of our vision Had eagles that flew unabashed to… When the grasp on the bow was deci… And arrow and hand and eye were on… When the Pleasures, like waves to…
’Tis true the wisdom that my mind… Through contemplation from a heart… By many tempests may be stained an… The summer flies it mightily attra… Yet they seem choicer than your so…
‘Heigh, boys!’ cried Grandfather… He lifted the crumpled letter, and… Up jumped all the echoing young on… Said, 'Father, before we make noi… The old man glared at him harshly,…
He leads: we hear our Seaman’s ca… In the roll of battles won; For he is Britain’s Admiral Till setting of her sun. When Britain’s life was in her sh…
She yields: my Lady in her nobles… Has yielded: she, my golden-crownÃ… The bride of every sense! more swe… Who breathe the violet breath of m… O visage of still music in the sky
Night, like a dying mother, Eyes her young offspring, Day. The birds are dreamily piping. And O, my love, my darling! The night is life ebb’d away:
I stood at the gate of the cot Where my darling, with side-glance… Would spy, on her trim garden-plot… The busy wild things chase and lur… For these with their ways were her…
I must be flattered. The imperiou… Desire speaks out. Lady, I am con… To play with you the game of Sent… And with you enter on paths perilo… But if across your beauty I throw…
What are we first? First, animals… Intelligences at a leap; on whom Pale lies the distant shadow of th… And all that draweth on the tomb f… Into which state comes Love, the…
The years had worn their seasons’… From bud to rosy prime, Since Nellie by the larch-pole kn… And helped the hop to climb. Most diligent of teachers then,
That march of the funereal Past b… How Glory sat on Bondage for its… How men, like dazzled insects, thr… Still worked their way, and bled t… We know them, as they strove and w…
1—I In middle age an evil thing Befell Archduchess Anne: She looked outside her wedding-rin… Upon a princely man.
Ladies who in chains of wedlock Chafe at an unequal yoke, Not to nightingales give hearing; Better this, the raven’s croak. Down the Prado strolled my seigne…
At last we parley: we so strangely… In such a close communion! It bef… About the sounding of the Matin—b… And lo! her place was vacant, and… Of loneliness was round me. Then…
‘Bibber besotted, with scowl of a… Never to join to thy warriors arme… Never for ambush forth with the pr… Dared thy soul, for to thee that t… Sooth, more easy it seems, down th…