#EnglishWriters
If you passed her in your city You would call her badly dressed, But the faded homespun covers Such a heart in such a breast! True, her rosy face is freckled
Adam and Eve together stood Amid the crop they both were tendi… While far away the feathery wood Of Eden in the wind was bending. And Adam, feeling in his veins
On Helen’s heart the day were n… But I may not adventure there: Here breast is guarded by a right, And she is true as fair. And though in happy days her eyes
NATURE and he went ever hand in… Across the hills and down the lone… They captured starry shells upon t… And lay enchanted by the musing ma… So She, who loved him for his lov…
All work is over at the farm And men and maids are ripe for gle… Love slips among them sly and warm Or calls them to the chestnut-tree… As Colin looks askance at Jane
O BROTHERS, who must ache and… O’er wordy tasks in London town, How scantly Laura trips for you— A poem in a gown! How rare if Grub-street grew a la…
Have you seen the golfers airy Prancing forth to their vagary, Just as frisky in their gaiters As a flock of Grecian Satyrs, Looking everything heroic,
O might I leave this grassy place For spreading foam about my feet! The splendid spray upon my face, The flying brine itself were sweet If I might hear on Cromer beach
Bartholomew is very sweet, From sandy hair to rosy feet. Bartholomew is six months old, And dearer far than pearls or gold… Bartholomew has deep blue eyes,
With heart disposed to memory, let… Near this monarch and this minstre… Now that Dian leans so lovely fro… Illusively brought near by seeming… In yon illustrious summit sways th…
When red-nosed Winter takes the r… An icicle his walking-stick, When frost is on the woodman’s loa… And snow is falling fast and thick… Come, lusty youth and sapless eld,
WAIT but a little while— The bird will bring A heart in tune for melodies Unto the spring, Till he who ’s in the cedar there
Shy maids have haunts of still del… The lover glades he never tells; And one is mine where mass the bri… And odoured chimes of foxglove-bel… A dewy, covert, silent place
This peach is pink with such a pin… As suits the peach divinely; The cunning colour rarely spread Fades to the yellow finely; But where to spy the truest pink
Tend me my birds, and bring again The brotherhood of woodland life, So shall I wear the seasons round A friend to need, a foe to strife; Keep me my heritage of lawn,