#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Not that the earth is changing, O… Nor that the seasons totter in the… Not that the virulent ill of act a… Seethes ever as a winepress ever t… Not therefore are we certain that…
DERE was an old nigger, and him… And him tale was rather slow; Me try to read de whole, but me on… Because me found it no go. Den hang up de auther Mrs. Stowe,
THE thoughts in me are very calm… That think upon your love: yet by… You shall not greatly marvel that… Or nightfall—yet scarce nightfall—… Leaves me thus sad. Now if you as…
She fell asleep on Christmas Eve: At length the long—ungranted shade Of weary eyelids overweigh’d The pain nought else might yet rel… Our mother, who had lean’d all day
The cuckoo—throb, the heartbeat of… The rosebud’s blush that leaves it… Into the full—eyed fair unblushing… The summer clouds that visit every… With fires of sunrise and of sunse…
October, and eleven after dark: Both mist and night. Among us in… Packed heat on which the windows h… Our backs unto the motion—Hunt’s… The last lamps of the Paris Stati…
“Sister,” said busy Amelotte To listless Aloÿse; “Along your wedding—road the wheat Bends as to hear your horse’s feet… And the noonday stands still for h…
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
What place so strange,—though unre… With unimaginable fires arise At the earth’s end,—what passion o… Like frost—bound fire—girt scenes… Lo! this is none but I this hour;…
AS when the last of the paid joys… Has come and gone; and with a sing… At length, and with one laugh of s… The wearied man a minute rests abo… The wearied woman, no more urged t…
Not in thy body is thy life at all… But in this lady’s lips and hands… Through these she yields thee life… What else were sorrow’s servant an… Look on thyself without her, and r…
Think thou and act; to—morrow thou… Outstretch’d in the sun’s warmth u… Thou say’st: “Man’s measur’d path… Up all his years, steeply, with st… Man clomb until he touch’d the tru…
Watch thou and fear; to—morrow tho… Or art thou sure thou shalt have t… Is not the day which God’s word p… To come man knows not when? In yo… Now while we speak, the sun speeds…
I marked all kindred Powers the h… Truth, with awed lips; and Hope,… And Fame, whose loud wings fan th… To signal—fires, Oblivion’s fligh… And Youth, with still some single…
This word had Merlin said from of… That out of the Oak Tree Shade In the day of France’s direst dul… God’s hand should send a Maid. And where Domremy, by Burgundy,