#ArtsAndSciences #EnglishWriters #Epigram #Nature Music,
Day of the cloud in fleets! O day Of wedded white and blue, that sai… Immingled, with a footing ray In shadow—sandals down our vale!— And swift to ravish golden meads,
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…
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…
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,
Leave the uproar: at a leap Thou shalt strike a woodland path, Enter silence, not of sleep, Under shadows, not of wrath; Breath which is the spirit’s bath
Men the Angels eyed; And here they were wild waves, And there as marsh descried; Men the Angels eyed, And liked the picture best
’Tis true the wisdom that my mind… Through contemplation from a heart… By many tempests may be stained an… The summer flies it mightily attra… Yet they seem choicer than your so…
That Garden of sedate Philosophy Once flourished, fenced from passi… A shining spot upon a shaggy map; Where mind and body, in fair junct… Luted their joyful concord; like t…
Fair and false! No dawn will gree… Thy waking beauty as of old; The little flower beneath thy feet Is alien to thy smile so cold; The merry bird flown up to meet
By this he knew she wept with waki… That, at his hand’s light quiver b… The strange low sobs that shook th… Were called into her with a sharp… And strangled mute, like little ga…
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…
Demeter devastated our good land, In blackness for her daughter snat… Smoke-pillar or loose hillock was… Where soil had been to clasp warm… The wheat, vine, olive, ripe to S…
Whate’er I be, old England is my… So there’s my answer to the judges… I’m nothing of a fox, nor of a lam… I don’t know how to bleat nor how… I’m for the nation!
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…
Under boughs of breathing May, In the mild spring-time I lay, Lonely, for I had no love; And the sweet birds all sang for p… Cuckoo, lark, and dove.