#EnglishWriters
‘I play for Seasons; not Eterniti… Says Nature, laughing on her way.… All those whose stake is nothing m… And lo, she wins, and of her harmo… She is full sure! Upon her dying…
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,
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…
Last night returning from my twili… I met the grey mist Death, whose… Was bent on me, and from his hand… He reached me flowers as from a wi… O Death, what bitter nosegays giv…
Carols nature, counsel men. Different notes as rook from wren Hear we when our steps begin, And the choice is cast within, Where a robber raven’s tale
Queen Theodolind has built In the earth a furnace-bed: There the Traitor Nail that spilt Blood of the anointed Head, Red of heat, resolves in shame:
What links are ours with orbs that… So resolutely far: The solitary asks, and they Give radiance as from a shield: Still at the death of day,
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
The sister Hours in circles linke… Daughters of men, of men the mates… Are gone on flow with the day that… With the night that spanned at gol… Mothers, they leave us, quickening…
Now farewell to you! you are One of my dearest, whom I trust: Now follow you the Western star, And cast the old world off as dust… From many friends adieu! adieu!
The spirit of Romance dies not to… Who hold a kindred spirit in their… Even as the odorous life within th… Lives in the scattered leaflets an… Mysterious adoration, so there glo…
Flat as to an eagle’s eye, Earth hung under Attila. Sign for carnage gave he none. In the peace of his disdain, Sun and rain, and rain and sun,
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…
The day that is the night of days, With cannon-fire for sun ablaze We spy from any billow’s lift; And England still this tidal drif… Would she to sainted forethought v…
Rich labour is the struggle to be… While we make sure the struggle ca… Else better were it in some bower… Slothful to swing, contending with… You point at Wisdom fixed on loft…