#English #Victorians
Of me and of my theme think what t… The song of gladness one straight… But I have never stood at Fortune… Were she and her light crew to run… At my poor holding little would be…
Yonder’s the man with his life in… Legs on the march for whatever the… Or to the slaughter, or to the mai… Getting the dole of a dog for pay. Laurels he clasps in the words ‘du…
What are we first? First, animals… Intelligences at a leap; on whom Pale lies the distant shadow of th… And all that draweth on the tomb f… Into which state comes Love, the…
Unhappy poets of a sunken prime! You to reviewers are as ball to ba… They shadow you with Homer, knock… With Shakespeare: bludgeons brain… On you the excommunicates of Rhym…
What may the woman labour to confe… There is about her mouth a nervous… ’Tis something to be told, or hidd… I get a glimpse of hell in this mi… She has desires of touch, as if to…
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…
I chanced upon an early walk to sp… A troop of children through an orc… The boughs hung low, the grass was… They had but to lift hands or wait For fruits to fill them; fruits we…
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…
When I would image her features, Comes up a shrouded head: I touch the outlines, shrinking; She seems of the wandering dead. But when love asks for nothing,
How low when angels fall their bla… Our primal thunder tells: known is… Of music, that nigh throning wisdo… And one false note cast wailful to… Now seems the language heard of L…
The shepherd, with his eye on hazy… Has told of rain upon the fall of… But promise is there none for Sus… That he will come, who keeps in dr… The freshest of the village three…
I would I were the drop of rain That falls into the dancing rill, For I should seek the river then, And roll below the wooded hill, Until I reached the sea.
Sharp is the night, but stars with… Leap off the rim of earth across t… It is a night to make the heavens… More than the nest whereto apace w… Lengths down our road each fir—tre…
Now the frog, all lean and weak, Yawning from his famished sleep, Water in the ditch doth seek, Fast as he can stretch and leap: Marshy king-cups burning near
For a Heracles in his fighting ir… follows When ashen he lies and the poets a… done. But to vision alive under shallows…