#EnglishWriters
The morning mists still haunt the… The northern summer air is shrill… And lo, the Hospital, grey, quiet… Where Life and Death like friendl… Thro’ the loud spaciousness and dr…
She’s tall and gaunt, and in her h… With flashes of the old fun’s anim… There lowers the fixed and peevish… Bred of a past where troubles came… She tells me that her husband, ere…
In the placid summer midnight, Under the drowsy sky, I seem to hear in the stillness The moths go glimmering by. One by one from the windows
What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere,
The ways of Death are soothing an… And all the words of Death are gr… From camp and church, the fireside… She bacons forth– and strife and s… A summer night descending cool and…
An ill March noon; the flagstones… An all-round east wind volleying s… St. Martin’s Steps, where every v… Lingers to buffet, or sneap, the p… And in the gutter, squelching a ro…
Spring winds that blow As over leagues of myrtle-blooms a… Bevies of spring clouds trooping s… Like matrons heavy bosomed and agl… With the mild and placid pride of…
He’s called The General from the… And dash with which he sneaks a bi… And all its fares; challenged, or… Back-answers of the newest he’ll e… He reins his horses with an air; h…
Beside the idle summer sea, And in the vacant summer days, Light Love came fluting down the… Where you were loitering with me. Who have not welcomed even as we,
The Artist muses at his ease, Contented that his work is done, And smiling-smiling!-as he sees His crowd collecting, one by one. Alas! his travail’s but begun!
O, gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes… And winter waits behind it! For with the dream foregone, foreg…
A child, Curious and innocent, Slips from his Nurse, and rejoici… Loses himself in the Fair. Thro’ the jostle and din
The gaunt brown walls Look infinite in their decent mean… There is nothing of home in the no… The fulsome fire. The atmosphere
Life in her creaking shoes Goes, and more formal grows, A round of calls and cues: Love blows as the wind blows. Blows! . . . in the quiet close
When you are old, and I am passed… Passed, and your face, your golden… I think, whate’er the end, this dr… Comforting you, a friendly star wi… Down the dim slope where you still…