#EnglishWriters
Mark where the pressing wind shoot… Its skeleton shadow on the broad-b… Here is a fitting spot to dig Lov… Here where the ponderous breakers… And dart their hissing tongues hig…
When comes the lighted day for men… Life’s meaning, with the work befo… Till this good gift of breath from… Earth will not hear her children’s… Deplore the chieftain fall’n in so…
Sleek as a lizard at round of a st… The look of her heart slipped out… Sweet on her lord her soft eyes sh… As innocents clear of a shade of s… He laid a finger under her chin,
The old grey Alp has caught the c… And the torrent river sings aloud; The glacier-green Rosanna sings An organ song of its upper springs… Foaming under the tiers of pine,
Like a flood river whirled at rock… An army issues out of wilderness, With battle plucking round its rag… Obstruction in the van; insane exc… Oft at the heart; yet hard the onw…
A revelation came on Jane, The widow of a labouring swain: And first her body trembled sharp, Then all the woman was a harp With winds along the strings; she…
Unhappy poets of a sunken prime! You to reviewers are as ball to ba… They shadow you with Homer, knock… With Shakespeare: bludgeons brain… On you the excommunicates of Rhym…
THE POETRY OF CHAUCER Grey with all honours of age! but… As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard… Tender to tearfulness-childlike, a… Here beats true English blood ric…
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…
’Tis Christmas weather, and a cou… Receives us: rooms are full: we ca… An attic-crib. Such lovers will n… At that, it is half-said. The gre… Knocks hard upon the midnight’s ho…
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…
From twig to twig the spider weave… At noon his webbing fine. So near to mute the zephyrs flute That only leaflets dance. The sun draws out of hazel leaves
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…
Once I was part of the music I he… On the boughs or sweet between ear… For joy of the beating of wings on… My heart shot into the breast of t… I hear it now and I see it fly,
What may the woman labour to confe… There is about her mouth a nervous… 'Tis something to be told, or hidd… I get a glimpse of hell in this mi… She has desires of touch, as if to…