#English #Women
WRITTEN AT OATLANDS. I SHALL come no more to the Ced… The fairies’ palace, beside the st… Where the yellow sun-rays at morni… Through their tresses dark, with a…
Too bright the glance your wishes… Into the future’s day, Too sweet the trust on which you l… Not to give way. Oh ever in this treacherous world,
False Love, take hence thy roses, Give me the bitter Rue That on my heart reposes, Sorrow at least is true. Maiden so fair and pale,
Beside a well-reap’d field at Eve… One laid him down to rest who’d wa… And fought and wounded been in Li… ‘These have done well their work,’… ‘But on mine armour blots of earth…
Roll not a drum—send not a clarion… Of haughty triumph to the silent s… Hush’d be the shout of joy in ev’r… And veil’d the flash of pride in e… Not with Te Deums loud, and high…
How passing sad! Listen, it sings… Art thou a spirit that, amongst th… The livelong night dost chant that… Making wan Dian stoop her silver… Out of the clouds to hear thee? wh…
Many a league of salt sea rolls Between us, yet I think our souls… Dear friend, are still as closely… As when we wandered side by side, Some seven years gone, in that fai…
And I Am reading, too, my book of memory… With eyelids closed, over the cres… And the blue, marbled sea, I seek… All present things forgotten, on t…
I know that thou wilt read what he… And yet not know that it is writ f… To this cold page I have entruste… Which tells thee all, and yet is t… For oh! this paper is not like my…
A BRITISH TRANSPORT… A BALLAD. As well as I am able, I’ll relate… And I trust, sirs, you’ll excuse… I’ve lived a hard and wandering li…
Loud wind, strong wind, where art… Into the air, the viewless air, To be lost there, There am I blowing. Clear wave, swift wave, where art…
Oh, sunny Love! Crowned with fresh flowering May, Breath like the Indian clove, Eyes like the dawn of day; Oh, sunny Love!
She has gone down! Woe for the wo… Its weary workers! gazing from afa… At the clear rising of that hopefu… Star of redemption to each weeping… Of pow’r decrepit, and of rule out…
Lady, whom my beloved loves so wel… When on his clasping arm thy head… When on thy lips his ardent kisses… And the bright flood of burning li… In his dark eyes, is poured into t…
Here’s a health to thee, Bard of… To the goblet’s brim we will fill; For all that to life is endearing, Thy strains have made dearer still… Wherever fond woman’s eyes eclipse
