#EnglishWriters
Beside the idle summer sea, And in the vacant summer days, Light Love came fluting down the… Where you were loitering with me. Who have not welcomed even as we,
‘As like the Woman as you can’ - (Thus the New Adam was beguiled)… ‘So shall you touch the Perfect M… (God in the Garden heard and smil… ‘Your father perished with his day…
Where are the passions they essaye… And where the tears they made to f… Where the wild humours they portra… For laughing worlds to see and kno… Othello’s wrath and Juliet’s woe?
Time, the old humourist, has a tri… Of moving landmarks and of levelli… Till into Town the Suburbs edge t… And in the Suburbs you may scent… With Mount Street thus approachin…
Between the dusk of a summer night And the dawn of a summer day, We caught at a mood as it passed i… And we bade it stoop and stay. And what with the dawn of night be…
Once on a time There was a little boy: a master-m… By virtue of a Book Of magic—O, so magical it filled His life with visionary pomps
He’s called The General from the… And dash with which he sneaks a bi… And all its fares; challenged, or… Back-answers of the newest he’ll e… He reins his horses with an air; h…
His beat lies knee—high through a… A dust of terror and torture, grie… Ghosts that are England’s wonder,… Throng where he walks, an antic of… A sense of long immedicable tears
St. Margaret’s bells, Quiring their innocent, old-world… Sing in the storied air, All rosy-and-golden, as with memor… Of woods at evensong, and sands an…
On the way to Kew, By the river old and gray, Where in the Long Ago, We laughed and loitered so, I met a ghost to-day,
Do you remember That afternoon—that Sunday aftern… When, as the kirks were ringing in… And the grey city teemed With Sabbath feelings and aspects…
What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere,
If it should come to be, This proof of you and me, This type and sign Of hours that smiled and shone, And yet seemed dead and gone
Life in her creaking shoes Goes, and more formal grows, A round of calls and cues: Love blows as the wind blows. Blows! . . . in the quiet close
SINCE those we love and those we… With all things mean and all thing… Pass in a desperate disarray Over the hills and far away: It must be, Dear, that, late or s…