#EnglishWriters
Of men he would have raised to lig… In soul he conquered with those ne… His country’s pride and her abasem… The Man of England circled by the…
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…
Swept from his fleet upon that fat… When great Poseidon’s sudden-veer… Scattered the happy homeward-float… Like foam-flakes off the waves, th… Held lofty commune with the dark…
He felt the wild beast in him betw… So masterfully rude, that he would… To see the helpless delicate thing… His guardianship through certain d… Had he not teeth to rend, and hung…
It chanced his lips did meet her f… She had no blush, but slanted down… Shamed nature, then, confesses lov… And most she punishes the tender f… Who will believe what honours her…
Angelic love that stoops with heav… To meet its earthly mate; Heroic love that to its sphere’s e… Can dare to join its fate With one beloved devoted human hea…
They have no song, the sedges dry, And still they sing. It is within my breast they sing, As I pass by. Within my breast they touch a stri…
I am to follow her. There is much… In woman when thus bent on martyrd… They think that dignity of soul ma… Perchance, with dignity of body.… But I was taken by that air of co…
Strike not thy dog with a stick! I did it yesterday: Not to undo though I gained The Paradise: heavy it rained On Kobold’s flanks, and he lay.
The shepherd, with his eye on hazy… Has told of rain upon the fall of… But promise is there none for Sus… That he will come, who keeps in dr… The freshest of the village three…
This was the woman; what now of th… But pass him. If he comes beneath… He shall be crushed until he canno… Or, being callous, haply till he c… But he is nothing:—nothing? Only…
A fountain of our sweetest, quick… In fellowship abounding, here subs… And never passage of a cloud on wi… To gladden blue forgets him; near…
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…
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…
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…