#English
When I set out for Lyonnesse, A hundred miles away, The rime was on the spray, And starlight lit my lonesomeness When I set out for Lyonnesse
By Corporal Tullidge. See “The… In Memory of S. C. (Pensioner).… WE trenched, we trumpeted and dru… And from our mortars tons of iron… Ath’art the ditch, the month we bo…
There was a time in former years– While my roof—tree was his— When I should have been distresse… At such a night as this! I should have murmured anxiously,
YOUR troubles shrink not, though… Here, far away, than when I tarri… I even smile old smiles—with listl… Yet smiles they are, not ghastly m… A thought too strange to house wit…
In Casterbridge there stood a nob… Wrought with pilaster, bay, and ba… In tactful times when shrewd Eliz… On burgher, squire, and clown It smiled the long street down for…
Somewhere afield here something li… In Earth’s oblivious eyeless trus… That moved a poet to prophecies - A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust The dust of the lark that Shelley…
They are not those who used to fee… When we were young—they cannot be… These shapes that now bereave and… They are not those who used to fee… For would they not fair terms conc…
The Roman Road runs straight and… As the pale parting-line in hair Across the heath. And thoughtful… Contrast its days of Now and Then… And delve, and measure, and compar…
A shaded lamp and a waving blind, And the beat of a clock from a dis… On this scene enter—winged, horned… A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledo… While 'mid my page there idly stan…
THIS love puts all humanity from… I can but maledict her, pray her d… For giving love and getting love o… Feeding a heart that else mine own… How much I love I know not, life…
My ardours for emprize nigh lost Since Life has bared its bones to… I shrink to seek a modern coast Whose riper times have yet to be; Where the new regions claim them f…
Who were the twain that trod this… So many times together Hither and back, In spells of certain and uncertain… Commonplace in conduct they
How much shall I love her? For life, or not long? “Not long.” Alas! When forget her? In years, or by June?
I rose at night and visited The Cave of the Unborn, And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent He…
With Thoughts of Sergeant M——(Pe… “WHY, Sergeant, stray on the Ive… As though at home there were spect… From first to last 'twas a proud c… And your sunny years with a gracio…