#English #Victorians
YOU must wake and call me early,… To-morrow ’ill be the happiest tim… Of all the glad New-year, mother,… For I’m to be Queen o’ the May,… There’s many a black, black eye, t…
Dip down upon the northern shore O sweet new-year delaying long; Thou doest expectant nature wrong; Delaying long, delay no more. What stays thee from the clouded n…
Strong Son of God, immortal Love… Whom we, that have not seen thy fa… By faith, and faith alone, embrace… Believing where we cannot prove; Thine are these orbs of light and…
So all day long the noise of battl… Among the mountains by the winter… Until King Arthur’s table, man by… Had fallen in Lyonnesse about the… King Arthur: then, because his wo…
Ask me no more: the moon may draw… The cloud may stoop from heaven an… With fold to fold, of mountain or… But O too fond, when have I answe… Ask me no more.
He clasps the crag with crooked ha… Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring’d with the azure world, he st… The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl… He watches from his mountain walls…
PART I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs…
NIGHTINGALES warbled without… Within was weeping for thee: Shadows of three dead men Walk’d in the walks with me: Shadows of three dead men, and tho…
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs… To many—tower’d Camelot;
You ask me, why, tho’ ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till,
At Flores, in the Azores Sir Ric… And a pinnace, like a flutter’d bi… “Spanish ships of war at sea! we h… Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: “… But I cannot meet them here, for…
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now… Nor waves the cypress in the palac… Nor winks the gold fin in the porp… The firefly wakens, waken thou wit… Now droops the milk-white peacock…
What time the mighty moon was gath… Loved paced the thymy plots of Pa… And all about him rol’d his lustro… When, turning round a cassia, full… Death, walking all alone beneath a…
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, So loud with voices of the birds, So thick with lowings of the herds… Day, when I lost the flower of me… Who tremblest thro’ thy darkling r…
That story which the bold Sir Bed… First made and latest left of all… Told, when the man was no more tha… In the white winter of his age, to… With whom he dwelt, new faces, oth…