#EnglishWriters
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
THOUGH singing but the shy and… Untrod by multitudes of feet, Songs bounded by the brook and whe… I have not failed in this, The only lure my woodland note,
When first sent to School (now th… I fancied my masters and took to t… I thought to myself—here ’tis plai… Revolving at last in an orbit of j… The Alphabet Grecian I quickly c…
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
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,
Last night some yellow letters fel… From out a scrip I found by chanc… Among them was the silent ghost, The spirit of my first romance: And in a faint blue envelope
I’m greedy by nature, and often in… Have lingered too long o’er the su… Accepting the jelly, ignoring the… Intent on receiving far more than… I worship the plover’s egg, tasty…
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,
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
HERE in the country’s heart Where the grass is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e’er hath been. Trust in a God still lives,
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
The kind-hearted angler was sadly… His calling unhallowed of choking… He bitterly wept, for of course he… An action most strongly opposed to… His vertabra shook as he musingly…
My lass, when God to suffer sent me, no gifts he gave, but only lent me for gold, my breath,
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…
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…