#EnglishWriters
Dear Heart, this is my book of bo… The changing story of the wanderin… That found at last its ending in t… The love it sought and sang astray… With wild young heart and happy ea…
Ye are young, ye are young, I am old, I am old; And the song has been sung And the story been told. Your locks are as brown
Dear Heart, what thing may symbol… A love like ours, what gift, whate… Hold more significance 'twixt thee… Than paltry words a truth miraculo… Or the poor signs that in astronom…
What of the darkness? Is it very… Are there great calms and find ye… Like soft-shut lilies all your fac… With some strange peace our faces… With some great faith our faces ne…
Art is a gipsy, Fickle as fair, Good to kiss and flirt with, But marry—if you dare!
Dear wife, there is no word in all… But unto thee belongs: Though I indeed before our true d… Mistook thy star in many a wanderi… Singing to thee in many a fair dis…
(FOR MR, G. F. WATTS’S P… Mammon is this, of murder and of g… To-day, to-morrow, and ever from o… Th’ Almighty God, and King of ev… Man ‘neath his foot, and woman ’ne…
Through the dark wood There came to me a friend, Bringing in his cold hands Two words-'The End.’ His face was fair
We are with France—not by the tie… Of treaties made with tongue in ch… The ancient diplomatic lies, The paper promises that seek To hide the long maturing guile,
Your birthday, sweetheart, is my b… For, had you not been born, I who began to live beholding you Up early as the morn, That day in June beside the rose-…
What shall I sing when all is sun… And every tale is told, And in the world is nothing young That was not long since old? Why should I fret unwilling ears
The sad nights are here and the sa… The air is filled with portents an… Clouds that vastly loom and winds… A mournful prescience Of bright things going hence;
Paths that wind O’er the hills and by the streams I must leave behind— Dawns and dews and dreams. Trails that go
You often ask me, love, how much… Bidding my fancy find An answer to your mind; I say: ‘Past count, as there are… You shake your head and say,
Water in hidden glens From the secret heart of the mount… Where the red fox hath its dens And the gods their crystal fountai… Up runnel and leaping cataract,