#EnglishWriters
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…
Cistercians might crack their side… With laughter, and exemption get, At sight of heroes clasping brides… And hearing—O the horn! the horn! The horn of their obstructive debt…
O my lover! the night like a broad… Bears us onward, and morn, a black… How I shuddered-I knew not that… Till I looked on thy face:- then… Then I felt like a thing caught b…
His Lady queen of woods to meet, He wanders day and night: The leaves have whisperings discre… The mossy ways invite. Across a lustrous ring of space,
Or shall we run with Artemis Or yield the breast to Aphrodite? Both are mighty; Both give bliss; Each can torture if divided;
I chanced upon an early walk to sp… A troop of children through an orc… The boughs hung low, the grass was… They had but to lift hands or wait For fruits to fill them; fruits we…
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…
They have no song, the sedges dry, And still they sing. It is within my breast they sing, As I pass by. Within my breast they touch a stri…
I am to follow her. There is much… In woman when thus bent on martyrd… They think that dignity of soul ma… Perchance, with dignity of body.… But I was taken by that air of co…
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…
Pitch here the tent, while the old… By the old hedge—side we’ll halt a… It’s nigh my last above the daisie… My next leaf’ll be man’s blank pag… Yes, my old girl! and it’s no use…
I bade my Lady think what she mig… Know I my meaning, I? Can I love… And yet be jealous of another? No… Commits such folly. Terrible Love… Has might, even dead, half sighing…
With love exceeding a simple love… That glide in grasses and rubble o… Or change their perch on a beat of… From branch to branch, only restfu… Or, bristled, curl at a touch thei…
Earth was not Earth before her so… Nor Beauty Beauty ere young Love… And thou when I lay hidden wast a… At city-windows, touching eyelids… To none by her fresh wingedness en…
Queen Theodolind has built In the earth a furnace-bed: There the Traitor Nail that spilt Blood of the anointed Head, Red of heat, resolves in shame: