#EnglishWriters
A breath of the mountains, fresh b… That look with their eye-daring su… The voice of great Nature; sublim… Yet earnest and simple as any swee…
[From the Mireio of Mistral] A hundred mares, all white! their… Like mace-reed of the marshy plain… Thick-tufted, wavy, free o’ the sh… And when the fiery squadron rears
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 flower unfolds its dawning cup… And the young sun drinks the star-… At eve it droops with the bliss of… And dreams in the midnight far awa… So am I in thy sole, sweet glance
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…
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
All other joys of life he strove t… And magnify, and catch them to his… But they had suffered shipwreck wi… And gazed upon him sallow from the… Or if Delusion came, ’twas but to…
Her son, albeit the Muse’s livery And measured courtly paces rouse h… Naked and hairy in his savage haun… To Nature only will he bend the k… Spouting the founts of her distill…
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,
Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in hi… Has earth beneath his wings: from… He views the rosy dawn. In vain t… The fatal web below while far he f… But when the arrow strikes him, th…
Awakes for me and leaps from shrou… All radiantly the moon’s own night Of folded showers in streamer clou… Our shadows down the highway white Or deep in woodland woven-boughed,
O might I load my arms with thee, Like that young lover of Romance Who loved and gained so gloriously The fair Princess of France! Because he dared to love so high,
Now, this, to my notion, is pleasa… To lie all alone on a ragged heath… Where your nose isn’t sniffing for… But a peat-fire smells like a gard… The cottagers bustle about the doo…
Give to imagination some pure ligh… In human form to fix it, or you sh… The devils with that hideous human… Imagination urging appetite! Thus fallen have earth’s greatest…
A Princess in the eastern tale Paced thro’ a marble city pale, And saw in ghastly shapes of stone The sculptured life she breathed a… Saw, where’er her eye might range,