#English
You bear a flower in your hand, You softly take it through the air… Lest it should be too roughly fann… And break and fall, for all your c… Love is like that, the lightest br…
Stream that leapt and danced Down the rocky ledges, All the summer long, Past the flowered sedges, Under the green rafters,
When the embalmer closed my eyes, And all the family went in black, And shipped me off to Paradise, I had no thought of coming back; I dreamed of undisturbed repose
To Man in haste, flushed with imp… Of some great thing to do, so slow… The long delay of Time all idle s… Idle the lordly leisure of the sun… So splendid his design, so brief h…
Fragoletta, blessed one, What think you of the light of the… Do you think the dark was best, Lying snug in mother’s breast? Ah! I knew that sweetness, too,
‘A Library in a garden! The phrase seems to contain the wh… of man.’-Mr. EDMUND GOSSE in Gossip in a Library A world of books amid a world of g…
Simple am I, I care no whit For pelf or place, It is enough for me to sit And watch Dulcinea’s face; To mark the lights and shadows fli…
Morning comes to little eyes, Wakens birds and butterflies, Bids the flower uplift his head, Calls the whole round world from b… Up jump Geoffrey!
Saint Charles! ah yes, let other… Love Elia for his antic pen, And watch with dilettante eyes His page for every quaint surprise… Curious of caviare phrase.
Yea, love, I know, and I would ha… I know that not for us Is springtide Passion with his fi… I know this love of ours Lives not, nor yet may live,
And is it true indeed, and must yo… Set out alone across that moorland… No love avail, though we have love… No voice have any power to call yo… And losing hands stretch after you…
Men say—beyond the western seas The happy isles no longer glow, No sailor sights Hesperides, All that was long ago. No longer in a glittering morn
Deem not my love is only for the b… The honey and the marble, that is… Tis so, Beloved, common loves con… Their treasury, and vanish like th… Nay, but my love’s a thing that’s…
Poet, whose words are like the tig… Sealed in the capsule of a silver… Still at your art we wonder as we… The art dynamic charging each word… Seeds of the silver flower of Eme…
Paths that wind O’er the hills and by the streams I must leave behind— Dawns and dews and dreams. Trails that go