#EnglishWriters
Yet it was plain she struggled, an… Of righteous feeling made her piti… Poor twisting worm, so queenly bea… Where came the cleft between us? w… My tears are on thee, that have ra…
The silence of preluded song - AEolian silence charms the woods; Each tree a harp, whose foliaged s… Are waiting for the master’s touch To sweep them into storms of joy,
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…
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…
Of men he would have raised to lig… In soul he conquered with those ne… His country’s pride and her abasem… The Man of England circled by the…
Take thy lute and sing By the ruined castle walls, Where the torrent-foam falls, And long weeds wave: Take thy lute and sing,
The Snowdrop is the prophet of th… It lives and dies upon its bed of… And like a thought of spring it co… Hanging its head beside our leafle… The sun’s betrothing kiss it never…
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…
WHEN by Zeus relenting the manda… Sentencing to exile the bright… Mindful were the ploughmen of who… Who: and what a track show’d th… Mindful were the shepherds, as now…
Distraction is the panacea, Sir! I hear my oracle of Medicine say. Doctor! that same specific yesterd… I tried, and the result will not d… A second trial. Is the devil’s li…
We spend our lives in learning pil… And grow good steersmen when the v… Gap-toothed he spake, and with a t… Sidled to gain the sunny bench of… It is the sentence which completes…
1—I When the South sang like a nighti… Above a bower in May, The training of Love’s vine of fl… Was writ in laws, for lord and dam…
What soul would bargain for a cure… Contempt the nobler agony to kill? Rather let me bear on the bitter i… And strike this rusty bosom with n… It seems there is another veering…
I know him, February’s thrush, And loud at eve he valentines On sprays that paw the naked bush Where soon will sprout the thorns… Now ere the foreign singer thrills
Sweet as Eden is the air, And Eden-sweet the ray. No Paradise is lost for them Who foot by branching root and ste… And lightly with the woodland shar…