#EnglishWriters #FemaleWriters #VictorianWriters #RhymedStanza
A ring upon her finger, Walks the bride, With the bridegroom tall and hands… At her side. A veil upon her forehead
The lily has an air, And the snowdrop a grace, And the sweetpea a way, And the heartsease a face, — Yet there’s nothing like the rose
O earth, lie heavily upon her eyes… Seal her sweet eyes weary of watch… Lie close around her; leave no roo… With its harsh laughter, nor for s… She hath no questions, she hath no…
I never said I loved you, John: Why will you tease me day by day, And wax a weariness to think upon With always “do” and “pray”? You Know I never loved you, John…
Lie a—bed, Sleepy head, Shut up eyes, bo—peep; Till daybreak Never wake: —
There is but one May in the year, And sometimes May is wet and cold… There is but one May in the year Before the year grows old. Yet though it be the chilliest Ma…
Rushes in a watery place, And reeds in a hollow; A soaring skylark in the sky, A darting swallow; And where pale blossom used to han…
What can lambkins do All the keen night through? Nestle by their woolly mother The careful ewe. What can nestlings do
I cannot tell you how it was, But this I know: it came to pass Upon a bright and sunny day When May was young; ah, pleasant… As yet the poppies were not born
My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thickse… My heart is like a rainbow shell
Swift and sure the swallow, Slow and sure the snail: Slow and sure may miss his way, Swift and sure may fail.
It is over. What is over? Nay, now much is over truly!— Harvest days we toiled to sow for; Now the sheaves are gathered newly… Now the wheat is garnered duly.
Angels at the foot, And Angels at the head, And like a curly little lamb My pretty babe in bed.
I will tell you when they met: In the limpid days of Spring; Elder boughs were budding yet, Oaken boughs looked wintry still, But primrose and veined violet
Why were you born when the snow wa… You should have come to the cuckoo… Or when grapes are green in the cl… Or, at least, when lithe swallows… For their far off flying