#EnglishWriters
It was a knight of the southern la… Rode forth upon the way When the birds sang sweet on eithe… About the middle of the May. But when he came to the lily-close…
Silk Embroidery. Lo silken my garden, and silken my sky, And silken my apple-boughs hanging on high;
What part of the dread eternity Are those strange minutes that I… Mazed with the doubt of love and p… When I thy delicate face may see, A little while before farewell?
The wind’s on the wold And the night is a-cold, And Thames runs chill ‘Twixt mead and hill. But kind and dear
Love is enough: ho ye who seek sav… Go no further; come hither; there… And these know the House of Fulfi… These know the Cup with the roses… These know the World’s Wound and…
She wavered, stopped and turned, m… The deep grey windows of her heart… Methought they softened with a new… To note in mine unspoken miseries, And as a prayer from out my heart…
Spring am I, too soft of heart Much to speak ere I depart: Ask the Summer-tide to prove The abundance of my love.
It was up in the morn we rose beti… From the hall-floor hard by the ro… It was but John the Red and I, And we were the brethren of Grego… And Gregory the Wright was one
Pray but one prayer for me ‘twixt… Think but one thought of me up in… The summer night waneth, the morni… Faint and grey ’twixt the leaves o… That are patiently waiting there f…
Of Heaven or Hell I have no powe… I cannot ease the burden of your f… Or make quick-coming death a littl… Or bring again the pleasure of pas… Nor for my words shall ye forget y…
When the boughs of the garden hang… And the blackbird reneweth his son… And the thunder departing yet roll… I remember the ending of wrong. When the day that was dusk while h…
O muse that swayest the sad North… Thy right hand full of smiting &am… Thy left hand holding pity; &… Heaving with hope of that so certa… Thou, with the grey eyes kind and…
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.
Ho! is there any will ride with me… Sir Giles, le bon des barrières? The clink of arms is good to hear, The flap of pennons fair to see; Ho! is there any will ride with me…
I KNOW a little garden-close Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy dawn to dewy night, And have one with me wandering.
