#EnglishWriters #Victorian
I WILL be happy if but for once: Only help me, Autumn weather, Me and my cares to screen, ensconc… In luxury’s sofa-lap of leather! Sleep? Nay, comfort—with just a c…
I wonder do you feel to—day As I have felt since, hand in han… We sat down on the grass, to stray In spirit better through the land, This morn of Rome and May?
Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern si… A pleasanter spot you never spied;
New Year’s Day at Asolo in the T… Scene.- A large mean airy chamber. A girl… . Day!
See, as the prettiest graves will… Our poet’s wants the freshness of… Spite of the sexton’s browsing hor… Have struggled through its binding… Headstone and half-sunk footstone…
I dream of a red-rose tree. And which of its roses three Is the dearest rose to me? II. Round and round, like a dance of s…
All I can say is—I saw it! The room was as bare as your hand. I locked in the swarth little lady… From the head to the foot of her—w… ‘No Nautch shall cheat me,’ said…
That’s my last Duchess painted on… Looking as if she were alive. I c… That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pan… Worked busily a day, and there she… Will’t please you sit and look at…
Heap cassia, sandal-buds and strip… Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smeared with dull nard an Indian… From out her hair: such balsam fal… Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
SHE: Yet womanhood you reverence… So you profess! HE: With heart and soul. SHE: Of which fact this is evide… To help Art-study,- for some dole
The year’s at the spring, And day’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hill-side’s dew-pearled; The lark’s on the wing;
Let us begin and carry up this cor… Singing together. Leave we the common crofts, the vu… Each in its tether Sleeping safe on the bosom of the…
There’s a palace in Florence, the… And a statue watches it from the s… And this story of both do our town… Ages ago, a lady there, At the farthest window facing the…
It once might have been, once only… We lodged in a street together, You, a sparrow on the housetop lon… I, a lone she—bird of his feather. Your trade was with sticks and cla…
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity… Draw round my bed: is Anselm keep… Nephews—sons mine . . . ah God, I… She, men would have to be your mot… Old Gandolf envied me, so fair sh…