#English #Victorians
The Vanishing They sought it with thimbles, they… They pursued it with forks and hop… They threatened its life with a ra… They charmed it with smiles and so…
I love the stillness of the wood: I love the music of the rill: I love to couch in pensive mood Upon some silent hill. Scarce heard, beneath you arching…
A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear,
“WHAT’S this?” I pondered. “Ha… Or can I have been drinking?” But soon a gentler feeling crept Upon me, and I sat and wept An hour or so, like winking.
In stature the Manlet was dwarfis… No burly, big Blunderbore he; And he wearily gazed on the crawfi… His Wifelet had dressed for his t… ‘Now reach me, sweet Atom, my gun…
Why is it that Poetry has never yet been subjected to that process of Dilution which has proved so advantageous to her sister—art Music? The Diluter gives us first a few notes of some w...
All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little ski… By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain prete…
When midnight mists are creeping, And all the land is sleeping, Around me tread the mighty dead, And slowly pass away. Lo, warriors, saints, and sages,
Inscribed to a Dear Child: In Memory of Golden Summer Hours And Whispers of a Summer Sea Girt with a boyish garb for boyish… Eager she wields her spade: yet lo…
Little maidens, when you look On this little story—book, Reading with attentive eye Its enticing history, Never think that hours of play
Blow, blow your trumpets till they… Ye little men of little souls! And bid them huddle at your back - Gold-sucking leeches, shoals on sh… Fill all the air with hungry wails…
“MY First —but don’t suppose,” he… “I’m setting you a riddle – Is– if your Victim be in bed, Don’t touch the curtains at his he… But take them in the middle,
HE shouts amain, he shouts again, (Her brother, fierce, as bluff Ki… “I tell you flat, I shall do that… She softly whispers “ ‘May’ for ‘… He wistful sighed one eventide
She’s all my fancy painted him (I make no idle boast); If he or you had lost a limb, Which would have suffered most? He said that you had been to her,
The ladye she stood at her lattice… Wi’ her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The passers in the street, 'There’s one that standeth at the…