#EnglishWriters
’Twas in the water-dwindling tide When July days were done, Sir Rafe of Greenhowes, ’gan to r… In the earliest of the sun. He left the white-walled burg behi…
But, learning now that they would… She threw her wet hair backward fr… Her hand close to her mouth touchi… As though she had had there a sham… And feeling it shameful to feel ou…
In Denmark gone is many a year, So fair upriseth the rim of the su… Two sons of Gorm the King there w… So grey is the sea when day is don… Both these were gotten in lawful b…
Hast thou longed through weary day… For the sight of one loved face? Mast thou cried aloud for rest, Mid the pain of sundering hours; Cried aloud for sleep and death,
Now sleeps the land of houses, and dead night holds the street, And there thou liest, my baby, and sleepest soft and sweet; My man is away for awhile,
For many, many days together The wind blew steady from the Eas… For many days hot grew the weather… About the time of our Lady’s Feas… For many days we rode together,
Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is drawing nigh, When the Cause shall call upon us… some to live, and some to die! He that dies shall not die lonely,
It was a knight of the southern la… Rode forth upon the way When the birds sang sweet on eithe… About the middle of the May. But when he came to the lily-close…
TRANSLATED FROM THE I… Of silk my gear was shapen, Scarlet they did on me, Then to the sea-strand was I born… And laid in a bark of the sea.
What cometh here from west to east… And who are these, the marchers st… We bear the message that the rich… Aback to those who bade them wake… Not one, not one, nor thousands mu…
King’s daughter sitting in tower s… Fair summer is on many a shield. Why weepest thou as the clouds go… Fair sing the swans 'twixt firth a… Why weepest thou in the window-sea…
am the handmaid of the earth, I broider fair her glorious gown, And deck her on her days of mirth With many a garland of renown. And while Earth’s little ones are…
Day. I am Day; I bring again Life and glory, Love and pain: Awake, arise! from death to death Through me the World’s tale quick…
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.
SIR OZANA. All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunda… Within that Chapel-aisle I lay, And no man came a-near.