#EnglishWriters
The loveliest face! I turned to h… Shut in 'mid savage rocks and tree… ’Twas in the May-time of the year… And our two hearts were filled wit… And pointed where a wild-rose grew…
Ah! did you ever hear the Spring Calling you through the snow, Or hear the little blackbird sing Inside its egg-or go To that green land where grass beg…
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,
Always thy book, too late acknowle… Now when thine eyes no earthly pag… Blinded with death, or blinded wit… Of love’s own lore celestial. Sma… Forsooth, for thee to read my eart…
She’s somewhere in the sunlight st… Her tears are in the falling ra… She calls me in the wind’s soft so… And with the flowers she comes… Yon bird is but her messenger,
The bloom upon the grape I ask no… Nor pampered fragrance of the soft… I only ask of Him who keeps the D… To open it for one who fearless go… Into the dark, from which, relucta…
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,
My eye upon your eyes— So was I born, One far-off day in Paradise, A summer morn; I had not lived till then,
War I abhor, And yet how sweet The sound along the marching stree… Of drum and fife, and I forget
Of all the wind-blown dust of face… Had I a god’s re-animating breath… Thee, like a perfumed torch in the… Lethean and the eyeless halls of d… Would I relume; the cresset of th…
Her eyes are bluebells now, her vo… And the long sighing grass her ele… She who a woman was is now a star In the high heaven shining down on…
When the long day has faded to its… The flowers gone, and all the sing… And there is no companion left sav… Ah! there is one, Though in her grave she lies this…
A woman! lightly the mysterious wo… Falls from our lips, lightly as th… Its meaning, as we say—a flower, a… Or say the moon, the stream, the l… Simple familiar things, mysterious…
Autumn and Winter, Summer and Spring— Hath Time no other song to sing? Weary we grow of the changeless tu… June—December,
An animalcule in my blood Rose up against me as I dreamed, He was so tiny as he stood, You had not heard him, though he s… He cried ‘There is no Man!’