#EnglishWriters
The booths were shut. The Fair wa… And the crowd gone with multitudin… Noisily home, or lingering still t… At Café doors or at the turn of t… In twos and threes its laughter wi…
Friends had he many, neighbours ne… Rowfant and Crabbet lay few field… Each Sunday saw him here, his chu… Duly stroll in to talk of books an… Entrapped, may—be, to share my mod…
Man openeth the case Body, from the arrogance Of the Soul thou seekest shield, Makest prayer the old mis—chance Of your birth—bond be repealed,
How shall I ransom me? The world… Where once I lived in vain expens… Say, shall it welcome me in this l… Back to its bosom of forgotten joy… Sometimes I hear it whispering wi…
I linger on the threshold of my yo… If you could see me now as then I… A fair—faced frightened boy with e… Scared at the world yet angry at i… Plotting all plots, a blushing Ca…
Clash your cymbals, maids, to—day. Chaunt the praise of Cynthia. You, her virgins, yokeless, free, Young Time’s choice, his brides—t… Nymphs in white, who hand in hand
If I forget thee! How shall I fo… Sword of the mighty! Prince and L… Captive I bind me To the spears that blind me, Rage in my heart and love for ever…
I will sit down awhile in dallianc… With my dead life, and dream that… My earliest memories have their ho… The chestnut woods of Bearn and s… Where first I learned to stammer…
A year ago I too was proud of May… I too delighted in the blackbird’s… When the sun shone my soul made ho… When the rain fell I felt it as a… Then for me too the world was fres…
TO ONE WHO LOVED HIM I cannot love you, love, as you lo… In singleness of soul, and faith u… I have no faith in any destiny, In any Heaven, even at your side.
Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo r… Still in those syllables of vain d… What voice of what dead pleasures… Of Maenad laughters pulsing throu… How bravely her streets smile on m…
She went on talking like a running… Without more reason or more pause… Than to gather breath and then pur… Just where it led her, tender, sad… Her moods seemed all alike to her.…
WRITTEN IN DISTRESS We sometimes sit in darkness. I l… Have sat there, in a shadow as of… My friends and comforters no longe… And they who grudge me wrongfully…
THE OASIS OF SIDI KHALED How the earth burns! Each pebble… Is as a living thing with power to… The white sand quivers, and the fo… Of the slow camels strikes but giv…
There are wrongs done in the fair… Which cry aloud for vengeance, and… Loves beautiful in strength whose… Vainly with loss and man’s inconst… Dead children’s faces watched by s…