#English #Victorians
As Puritans they prominently wax, And none more kindly gives and tak… Strong psalmic chanting, like to n… They join to thunderings of their… But naughtiness, with hoggery, not…
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,
Two flower-enfolding crystal vases… I love fills daily, mindful but of… And close behind pale morn she, li… Priming our world with light, pour… Clear water in the cup, and into m…
The old grey mother she thrummed o… There is a rose that’s ready; And which of the handsome young me… There’s a rose that’s ready for cl… My daughter, come hither, come hit…
Not ere the bitter herb we taste, Which ages thought of happy times, To plant us in a weeping waste, Rings with our fellows this one he… Accordant chimes.
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,
We saw the swallows gathering in t… And in the osier-isle we heard the… We had not to look back on summer… Or forward to a summer of bright d… But in the largeness of the evenin…
I think she sleeps: it must be sle… Hangs that abandoned arm toward th… The face turned with it. Now make… Sleep on: it is your husband, not… The Poet’s black stage-lion of wr…
Who call her Mother and who calls… Look on her grave and see not Dea…
That was the chirp of Ariel You heard, as overhead it flew, The farther going more to dwell, And wing our green to wed our blue… But whether note of joy or knell,
No state is enviable. To the luck… Of some few favoured men I would… I bleed, but her who wounds I wil… Have I not felt her heart as ’twe… Beat thro’ me? could I hurt her?…
Hawk or shrike has done this deed Of downy feathers: rueful sight! Sweet sentimentalist, invite Your bosom’s Power to intercede. So hard it seems that one must ble…
Night, like a dying mother, Eyes her young offspring, Day. The birds are dreamily piping. And O, my love, my darling! The night is life ebb’d away:
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…
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,
