#EnglishWriters #VictorianWriters
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, an… Turn thy wild wheel thro’ sunshine… Thy wheel and thee we neither love… Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel wit… With that wild wheel we go not up…
Home they brought her warrior dead… She nor swoon’d nor utter’d cry: All her maidens, watching, said, “She must weep or she will die.” Then they praised him, soft and lo…
Of old sat Freedom on the heights… The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoice…
To-night the winds begin to rise And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl’d away, The rooks are blown about the skie… The forest crack’d, the waters cur…
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…
WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn… In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow’d back with… The forward-flowing tide of time; And many a sheeny summer-morn,
If I were loved, as I desire to b… What is there in the great sphere… And range of evil between death an… That I should fear,—if I were lov… All the inner, all the outer world…
‘Your ringlets, your ringlets, That look so golden-gay, If you will give me one, but one, To kiss it night and day, The never chilling touch of Time
O you chorus of indolent reviewers… Irresponsible, indolent reviewers, Look, I come to the test, a tiny… All composed in a metre of Catull… All in quantity, careful of my mot…
. O that 'twere possible . After long grief and pain .
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 purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hou… Do forge a life-long trouble for o… By taking true for false, or false… Here, through the feeble twilight…
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
When cats run home and light is co… And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round,
Is it, then, regret for buried tim… That keenlier in sweet April wake… And meets the year, and gives and… The colours of the crescent prime? Not all: the songs, the stirring a…