#EnglishWriters
The Youths. O Winter, O white winter, wert th… No more within the wilds were I a… Leaping with bent bow over stock a… No more alone my love the lamp sho…
TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may.
Come hither lads and hearken, for a tale there is to tell, Of the wonderful days a-coming, wh… shall be better than well. And the tale shall be told of a co…
Midst bitten mead and acre shorn, The world without is waste and wor… But here within our orchard-close, The guerdon of its labour shows. O valiant Earth, O happy year
The King has asked of his son so… “Why art thou hushed and heavy of… O fair it is to ride abroad. Thou playest not, and thou laughes… All thy good game is clean forgot.…
There were four of us about that b… The mass-priest knelt at the side, I and his mother stood at the head… Over his feet lay the bride; We were quite sure that he was dea…
TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… King Hafbur & King Siward They needs must stir up strife, All about the sweetling Signy Who was so fair a wife.
Hast thou longed through weary day… For the sight of one loved face? Mast thou cried aloud for rest, Mid the pain of sundering hours; Cried aloud for sleep and death,
The Beasts that be In wood and waste, Now sit and see, Nor ride nor haste.
Silk Embroidery. Lo silken my garden, and silken my sky, And silken my apple-boughs hanging on high;
There was a lord that hight Malte… Among great lords he was right gre… On poor folk trod he like the dirt… None but God might do him hurt. Deus est Deus pauperum.
I am Night: I bring again Hope of pleasure, rest from pain: Thoughts unsaid 'twixt Life and D… My fruitful silence quickeneth.
In an English Castle in Poictou.… John Curzon Of those three prisoners, that bef… We took down at St. John’s hard b… Two are good masons; we have tools…
The Briarwood. The fateful slumber floats and flo… About the tangle of the rose; But lo! the fated hand and heart To rend the slumberous curse apart…
Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou a… Across the long grass of the marsh… Thy west wind whispers of the comi… Thy lark forgets that May is grow… Above the lush blades of the sprin…
