#EnglishWriters
Silk Embroidery. Lo silken my garden, and silken my sky, And silken my apple-boughs hanging on high;
Love is enough: have no thought fo… If ye lie down this even in rest f… Ye who have paid for your bliss wi… For as it was once so it shall be… Ye shall cry out for death as ye s…
TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may.
Fair now is the springtide, now ea… With the eyes of a lover, the face… Long lasteth the daylight, and hop… The green-growing acres with incre… Now sweet, sweet it is through the…
There was a lord that hight Malte… Among great lords he was right gre… On poor folk trod he like the dirt… None but God might do him hurt. Deus est Deus pauperum.
Spring am I, too soft of heart Much to speak ere I depart: Ask the Summer-tide to prove The abundance of my love.
Summer looked for long am I: Much shall change or e’er I die. Prithee take it not amiss Though I weary thee with bliss.
Wearily, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily
I heard men saying, Leave hope an… All days shall be as all have been… To-day and to-morrow bring fear an… The never-ending toil between. When Earth was younger mid toil a…
Had she come all the way for this, To part at last without a kiss? Yea, had she borne the dirt and ra… That her own eyes might see him sl… Beside the haystack in the floods?
When the boughs of the garden hang… And the blackbird reneweth his son… And the thunder departing yet roll… I remember the ending of wrong. When the day that was dusk while h…
Winter in the world it is, Round about the unhoped kiss Whose dream I long have sorrowed… Round about the longing sore, That the touch of thee shall turn
Oak. I am the Roof-tree and the Keel; I bridge the seas for woe and weal… Fir. High o’er the lordly oak I stand,
In Arthur’s house whileome was I When happily the time went by In midmost glory of his days. He held his court then in a place Whereof ye shall not find the name
Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet