#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Whence came his feet into my field… How is it that he sees it all so d… How do I see his seeing, and how… The name his bitter silence knows… This was the little fold of separa…
Eat thou and drink; to—morrow thou… Surely the earth, that’s wise bein… Needs not our help. Then loose me… Thy sultry hair up from my face; t… May pour for thee this golden wine…
Thin are the night-skirts left beh… By daybreak hours that onward cree… And thin, alas! the shred of sleep That wavers with the spirit’s wind… But in half-dreams that shift and…
‘There is a budding morrow in midn… So sang our Keats, our English ni… And here, as lamps across the brid… In London’s smokeless resurrectio… Dark breaks to dawn. But o’er the…
O RUFF—EMBASTIONED vast El… Bush to these bushel—bellied casks… Home—growth, 'tis true, but rank a… What would we with such skittle—pl… Say, must we watch these brawlers’…
OH how the family affections comb… Within this heart, and each hour f… My burning soul! Neither from owl… Can peace be gained until I clasp…
ENTER Skald, moored in a punt, And jacks and tenches exeunt.
(In the Academy of Bruges) MYSTERY: God, man’s life, born… Of woman. There abideth on her br… The ended pang of knowledge, the w… Is calm assured. Since first her…
HERE writ was the World’s Histo… Whose steps knew all the earth; al… In these few piteous paces then wa… Here daily, hourly, have his proud… This smaller speck than the recedi…
This sunlight shames November whe… In dead red leaves, and will not l… The day, though bough with bough b… But with a blessing every glade re… High salutation; while from hilloc…
In whomsoe’er, since Poesy began, A Poet most of all men we may sca… Burns of all poets is the most a…
ESSENDO pazzo, il bue al guado… E volta e sfugge e d’acqua và digi… E tu, pittor, che come lui sei Br… Temendo un detto, dici cosa zoppa. Acqua di guado no, ma vino in copp…
How large that thrush looks on the… A swarm of such, three little mont… Had hidden in the leaves and let n… Save by the outburst of their mins… A white flake here and there—a sno…
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…
Afar away the light that brings co… Unto this wall, —one instant and n… Admitted at my distant palace—door… Afar the flowers of Enna from thi… Dire fruit, which, tasted once, mu…