#English #Victorians #Women #XIXCentury
Every valley drinks, Every dell and hollow; Where the kind rain sinks and sink… Green of Spring will follow. Yet a lapse of weeks
I am a King, Or an Emperor rather, I wear crown—imperial And prince’s—feather; Golden—rod is the sceptre
I wish I could remember the first… First hour, first moment of your m… If bright or dim the season, it mi… Summer or winter for aught I can… So unrecorded did it slip away,
Two doves upon the selfsame branch… Two lilies on a single stem, Two butterflies upon one flower:— Oh happy they who look on them. Who look upon them hand in hand
I caught a little ladybird That flies far away; I caught a little lady wife That is both staid and gay. Come back, my scarlet ladybird,
Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun—loving swallow, for summer is… Come again, come again, come back… Bringing the summer and bringing t…
One face looks out from all his ca… One selfsame figure sits or walks… We found her hidden just behind th… That mirror gave back all her love… A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
Somewhere or other there must sure… The face not seen, the voice not h… The heart that not yet—never yet—a… Made answer to my word. Somewhere or other, may be near or…
‘Oh, where are you going with your… On the west wind blowing along thi… 'The downhill path is easy, come w… We shall escape the uphill by neve… So they two went together in glowi…
Rushes in a watery place, And reeds in a hollow; A soaring skylark in the sky, A darting swallow; And where pale blossom used to han…
Where sunless rivers weep Their waves into the deep, She sleeps a charmed sleep: Awake her not. Led by a single star,
Mavel of marvels, if I myself sha… With mine own eyes my King in His… Where the least of lambs is spotle… Where the least and last of saints… Where the dimmest head beyond a mo…
Oh what is that country And where can it be, Not mine own country, But dearer far to me? Yet mine own country,
But give me holly, bold and jolly, Honest, prickly, shining holly; Pluck me holly leaf and berry For the day when I make merry
This Advent moon shines cold and… These Advent nights are long; Our lamps have burned year after y… And still their flame is strong. ‘Watchman, what of the night?’ we…
