#EnglishWriters
All the flowers cannot weave A garland worthy of your hair, Not a bird in the four winds Can sing of you that is so fair. Only the spheres can sing of you;
Had I the gold that some so vainl… For my lost loves a temple would… A shrine for each dear name: there… Incense for ever, and hymns of gol… And I would live the remnant of m…
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,
At last I got a letter from the d… And out of it there fell a little… The violet of an unforgotten hour.
Surely at last, O Lady, the sweet… That bringeth in the happy singing… Groweth to pearly queendom, and fu… Shall Love and Song go hand in ha… For all the pain that all too long…
(TO GRANT AND NELLIE ALL… Is it the Spring? Or are the birds all wrong That play on flute and viol, A thousand strong,
The daisied dawn is in the sky, And the young day still dew and dr… When on the innocent morning air There comes a terrifying scream; And the four ends of the sad earth
This life I squander, hating the… That will not bring me either Res… This health I hack and ravage as… These nerves I fain would shatter… I fain would break—this heart that…
How fast the year is going by! Love, it will be September soon; O let us make the best of June. Already, love, it is July; The rose and honeysuckle go,
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…
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
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.
Let’s go to market in the moon, And buy some dreams together, Slip on your little silver shoon, And don your cap and feather; No need of petticoat or stocking—
I had no heart to join the dance, I danced it all so long ago– Ah! light-winged music out of Fra… Let other feet glide to and fro, Weaving new patterns of romance
(TO MRS. HENRY HARLAND) Paris, half Angel, half Grisette, I would that I were with thee yet… Where the long boulevard at even Stretches its starry lamps to heav…