#EnglishWriters
Maimed, beggared, grey; seeking an… Of palsy doing task of thanks for… Upon the stature of a God, He whom the Gods have struck bend… Weak words he has, that slip the n…
Take thy lute and sing By the ruined castle walls, Where the torrent-foam falls, And long weeds wave: Take thy lute and sing,
When I would image her features, Comes up a shrouded head: I touch the outlines, shrinking; She seems of the wandering dead. But when love asks for nothing,
‘Sirs! may I shake your hands? My countrymen, I see! I’ve lived in foreign lands Till England’s Heaven to me. A hearty shake will do me good,
Open horizons round, O mounting mind, to scenes unsung, Wherein shall walk a lusty Time: Our Earth is young; Of measure without bound;
Let Fate or Insufficiency provide Mean ends for men who what they ar… Penned in their narrow day no chan… Save one which strikes the blow to… Our faith is ours and comes not on…
No, no, the falling blossom is no… Of loveliness destroy’d and sorrow… The blossom sheds its loveliness d… Its mission is to prophecy the fru… Nor is the day of love for ever de…
Swept from his fleet upon that fat… When great Poseidon’s sudden-veer… Scattered the happy homeward-float… Like foam-flakes off the waves, th… Held lofty commune with the dark…
I am not of those miserable males Who sniff at vice and, daring not… Do therefore hope for heaven. I t… Of all my deeds. The wind that fi… Propels; but I am helmsman. Am I…
Thus piteously Love closed what h… The union of this ever-diverse pai… These two were rapid falcons in a… Condemned to do the flitting of th… Lovers beneath the singing sky of…
1—I In middle age an evil thing Befell Archduchess Anne: She looked outside her wedding-rin… Upon a princely man.
But where began the change; and wh… The wretch condemned, who has not… Chafes at his sentence. Shall I,… Drag on Love’s nerveless body thr… I must have slept, since now I wa…
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…
Now the North wind ceases, The warm South-west awakes; Swift fly the fleeces, Thick the blossom-flakes. Now hill to hill has made the stri…
He leaped. With none to hinder, Of Aetna’s fiery scoriae In the next vomit-shower, made he A more peculiar cinder. And this great Doctor, can it be,