#English #Victorians
Beneath the vans of doom did men p… Heroic who came out; for round the… A wavering phantom’s red volcano t… With league-long lizard tail and f… II.
That march of the funereal Past b… How Glory sat on Bondage for its… How men, like dazzled insects, thr… Still worked their way, and bled t… We know them, as they strove and w…
Madam would speak with me. So, no… The Deluge or else Fire! She’s w… My husbandship. Our chain on sile… Time leers between, above his twid… Am I quite well? Most excellent i…
The buried voice bespake Antigone… ‘O sister! couldst thou know, as t… The bliss above, the reverence bel… Enkindled by thy sacrifice for me; Thou wouldst at once with holy ecs…
We look for her that sunlike stood Upon the forehead of our day, An orb of nations, radiating food For body and for mind alway. Where is the Shape of glad array;
Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in hi… Has earth beneath his wings: from… He views the rosy dawn. In vain t… The fatal web below while far he f… But when the arrow strikes him, th…
As Puritans they prominently wax, And none more kindly gives and tak… Strong psalmic chanting, like to n… They join to thunderings of their… But naughtiness, with hoggery, not…
Sword in length a reaping-hook ama… Harald sheared his field, blood up… ‘Mid the swathes of slain, First at moonrise drank. Thereof hunger, as for meats the k…
Bright Sirius! that when Orion pa… To dotlings under moonlight still… With cheerful fervour of a warrior… Who holds in his great heart the b… Unquenched of flame though swift t…
Now the North wind ceases, The warm South-west awakes; Swift fly the fleeces, Thick the blossom-flakes. Now hill to hill has made the stri…
Our Islet out of Helgoland, dismi… From his quaint tenement, quits ha… There lived with us a wagging humo… In that hound’s arch dwarf-legged…
Keen as an eagle whose flight towa… Fearless of toil or fatigue ever r… Vast in the cloud-coloured robes o… Lo! the grand Epic advances, unfo…
I think she sleeps: it must be sle… Hangs that abandoned arm toward th… The face turned with it. Now make… Sleep on: it is your husband, not… The Poet’s black stage-lion of wr…
I cannot lose thee for a day, But like a bird with restless wing My heart will find thee far away, And on thy bosom fall and sing, My nest is here, my rest is here;…
By this he knew she wept with waki… That, at his hand’s light quiver b… The strange low sobs that shook th… Were called into her with a sharp… And strangled mute, like little ga…
