#English #Victorians
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…
[Iliad, B. XVII. V. 426] So now the horses of Aiakides, of… Wept, since first they were ware o… Cast down low in the whirl of the… Sooth, meanwhile, then did Autome…
The long cloud edged with streamin… Soars from the West; The red leaf mounts with it away, Showing the nest A blot among the branches bare:
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
O skylark! I see thee and call th… Thy wings bear thee up to the brea… I see thee no more, but thy song i… The tongue of the heavens to me! Thus are the days when I was a bo…
When April with her wild blue eye Comes dancing over the grass, And all the crimson buds so shy Peep out to see her pass; As lightly she loosens her showery…
Here Jack and Tom are paired with… Curved open to the river-reach is… A country merry-making on the gree… Fair space for signal shakings of… That little screwy fiddler from hi…
Their sense is with their senses a… Destroyed by subleties these women… More brain, O Lord, more brain! o… Utterly this fair garden we might… Behold! I looked for peace, and t…
How smiles he at a generation rank… In gloomy noddings over life! The… Not he to feed upon a breast untha… Or eye a beauteous face in a crack… But he can spy that little twist o…
What is the name of King Ringang’… Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut! And what does she do the livelong… Since she dare not knit and spin a… O hunting and fishing is ever her…
When buds of palm do burst and spr… Their downy feathers in the lane, And orchard blossoms, white and re… Breathe Spring delight for Autumn… And the skylark shakes his wings i…
On her great venture, Man, Earth gazes while her fingers dint… Which is his well of strength, his… And fair to scan. More aid than that embrace,
Men the Angels eyed; And here they were wild waves, And there as marsh descried; Men the Angels eyed, And liked the picture best
Keen as an eagle whose flight towa… Fearless of toil or fatigue ever r… Vast in the cloud-coloured robes o… Lo! the grand Epic advances, unfo…
Prince of Bards was old Aneurin; He the grand Gododin sang; All his numbers threw such fire in… Struck his harp so wild a twang; - Still the wakeful Briton borrows