#Decadents #English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
So old is the wood, so old, Old as Fear. Wrinkled roots; great stems; hushe… No sound near. Shadows retreat into shadow,
The desert sand at day’s swift fli… Drank of the dew—cold vivid night Where Nile flows as he flowed When first men reaped and sowed As though his stream since Time b…
Why hurt so hard by little pricks, By chasing cares so clouded over, Heart of mine? Holding what no storm can unfix Nor time corrupt, O tender lover!
Ask me not, Dear, what thing it i… That makes me love you so; What graces, what sweet qualities, That from your spirit flow: For I have but this old reply,
Mother, because thine eyes are sea… And thy cheeks pale, and thy lips… In silence plunged, so fathomlessl… Thou liest, and relaxest all thy w… Is it indeed thy spirit that is fl…
Coiled in shadow, the serpent seas Engirdle perilous hills sublime: By tortuous, steep degrees Toward the morn I climb. Before me the mountain soaring vas…
In the breathing of a breath— How, who shall say? Ghostly mist has flowered Into flaming day. Dewy from furze to furze
2nd Lieut., Cinque Ports Battali… Strong, loyal—souled, full—hearted… Only remembering love knows all he… Beautiful be the stars above his g…
Within the eyes of Dream—Come—Tr… Shine the old dreams of my youth. Ere they faded, ere they grew Distant, they were born anew In her truth.
When all the world is hidden And there is only you, When bosom beats to bosom As if the heart broke through, O never speech nor language
The shrines of old are broken down… The faiths that knelt at them are… Nothing’s strange, and nought unkn… All’s been done and all been said. Tired of knowledge, now we sigh
Like the bloom on a grape is the e… And a first faint frost the wind h… Yet the fear of his breath avails… The withered leaves on the cold gr… For they huddle and whisper in pha…
In the seven—times taken and re—ta… Peace! The mind stops; sense argu… The August sun is ghostly in the… As if the Silence of a thousand y… Were its familiar. All is as it w…
Beautifully dies the year. Silence sleeps upon the mere: Yellow leaves float on it, stilly As, in June, the opened lily. Brushing o’er the frosty grass
I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, a… From rail-track and from highway,… In field and farmstead many an anc… Of local lineage like ‘Thu bist,’… ‘Ich woll,’ ‘Er sholl,’ and by-ta…