#EnglishWriters
A hundred autumns fallen in fire To dust and mould Have faded from their perished gol… To throne thee higher, O Titan pine, that soarest straig…
The Man. O tyrannous Angel, dreadful God, Who taught thee thus to wield thy… So jealous of a happy heart, Thou smot’st our happy souls apart…
I lay upon my bed in the great nig… The sense of my body drowsed; But a clearness yet lingered in th… By soft obscurity housed. As an inn to a traveller on a long…
O Weariness, that writest histori… On all these human faces, and O S… That somewhere silence hears! You… It seems, in the old earth’s deep—… Your way of solace is a different…
The stag that lifted up his kingly… Upon the silent mountains, and fro… Beneath him heard the confident ha… Of men invading his old solitudes, Then bounding over the rough slope…
In misty blue the lark is heard Above the silent homes of men; The bright-eyed thrush, the little… The yellow-billed sweet-voiced bla… Mid sallow blossoms blond as curd
Ah, now this happy month is gone, Not now, my heart, complain, Nor rail at Time because so soon He takes his own again. He takes his own, the weeks, the h…
Home from the wounds of Earth and… The marvel of her beauty and morni… She has taken, glorious with the d… Still on her thoughts, those thoug… Gleamed still or splendid, unafrai…
Naked reality, and menace near As fire to scorching flesh, shall… The spirit that sees, with danger—… What it must save or die for; not… Name, but the thing, now doubly, t…
The evening takes me from your sid… The darkness creeps into my breast… Swift clouds across the dim heaven… And fill me with their vague unres… I wander sad, and know not why:
Burned from the ore’s rejected d… The iron whitens in the heat. With plangent strokes of pain and… The hammers on the iron beat. Searched by the fire, through deat…
Many dreams I have dreamed That are all now gone. The world, mirrored in a dark pool… How unearthly it shone! But now I have comfort
Grief is like a child, Led with relentless hand By a strange nurse, whose face Seems never to have smiled, Whose onward gaze severe
As my hand dropt a seed In the dibbled mould And my mind hurried onward To picture the miracle June should unfold,
Random rock And the stain of the rain, Smell of bracken, The windy moor And the wild cloud,