#EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters #RhymedStanza
That which we dare invoke to bless… Our dearest faith; our ghastliest… He, They, One, All; within, with… The Power in darkness whom we gue… I found Him not in world or sun,
All Things will Die Clearly the blue river chimes in i… Under my eye; Warmly and broadly the south winds… Over the sky.
Fair is her cottage in its place, Where yon broad water sweetly slow… It sees itself from thatch to base Dream in the sliding tides. And fairer she, but ah how soon to…
As thro’ the land at eve we went, And pluck’d the ripen’d ears, We fell out, my wife and I, O we fell out I know not why, And kiss’d again with tears.
Come down, O maid, from yonder mo… What pleasure lives in height (the… In height and cold, the splendour… But cease to move so near the Hea… To glide a sunbeam by the blasted…
O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer s… Rise in the spiritual rock, Flow thro’ our deeds and make them… That we may lift from out of dust
Deep on the convent-roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour go… May my soul follow soon! The shadows of the convent-towers
From noiseful arms, and acts of pr… In tournament or tilt, Sir Perciv… Whom Arthur and his knighthood ca… Had passed into the silent life of… Praise, fast, and alms; and leavin…
Tears, idle tears, I know not wha… Tears from the depth of some divin… Rise in the heart, and gather to t… In looking on the happy Autumn-fi… And thinking of the days that are…
O that ‘twere possible After long grief and pain To find the arms of my true love Round me once again! When I was wont to meet her
O maiden, fresher than the first g… With which the fearful springtide… Weep not, Almeida, that I said to… That thou hast half my heart, for… Doth hold the other half in sovran…
With blackest moss the flower-plot… Were thickly crusted, one and all: The rusted nails fell from the kno… That held the pear to the gable-wa… The broken sheds look’d sad and st…
There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the south that darkens th… Storm of battle and thunder of war… Well, if it do not roll our way. Form! form! Riflemen form!
O mighty—mouth’d inventor of harmo… O skill’d to sing of Time or Eter… God—gifted organ—voice of England… Milton, a name to resound for ages… Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abd…
I come from haunts of coot and her… I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down,