#EnglishWriters
The world’s gone forward to its la… And dropt an old man done with by… To sit alone among the bats and st… At miles and miles and miles of mo… Lit only with last shreds of dying…
For all its flowers and trailing b… Its singing birds and streams, This valley’s not the blissful spo… The paradise, it seems. I don’t forget a man I met
If you could bring her glories bac… You gentle sirs who sift the dust And burrow in the mould and must Of Babylon for bric-a-brac; Who catalogue and pigeon-hole
Reason has moons, but moons not he… Lie mirror’d on the sea, Confounding her astronomers, But O! delighting me. . . . . .
Time, You Old Gypsy Man Will you not stay, Put up your caravan Just for one day? All things I’ll give you
It’s sixty years ago, the people s… Two village children, neighbours b… One morning played beneath a rotte… That came down crash and caught th… And one was killed and one was lef…
The book was dull, its pictures As leaden as its lore, But one glad, happy picture Made up for all and more: ’Twas that of you, sweet peasant,
See an old unhappy bull, Sick in soul and body both, Slouching in the undergrowth Of the forest beautiful, Banished from the herd he led,
Babylon where I go dreaming When I weary of to-day, Weary of a world grown gray. God loves an idle rainbow, No less than laboring seas.
Sour fiend, go home and tell the… For once you met your master, - A man who carried in his soul Three charms against disaster, The Devil and disaster.
A few tossed thrushes save That carolled less than cried Against the dying rave And moan that never died, No bird sang then; no thorn,
‘Twould ring the bells of Heaven The wildest peal for years, If Parson lost his senses And people came to theirs, And he and they together
I saw with open eyes Singing birds sweet Sold in the shops For people to eat, Sold in the shops of
I climbed a hill as light fell sho… And rooks came home in scramble so… And filled the trees and flapped a… And sang themselves to sleep; An owl from nowhere with no sound
When flighting time is on I go With clap-net and decoy, A-fowling after goldfinches And other birds of joy; I lurk among the thickets of