#EnglishWriters #Victorian
O mighty—mouth’d inventor of harmo… O skill’d to sing of Time or Eter… God—gifted organ—voice of England… Milton, a name to resound for ages… Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abd…
'There sinks the nebulous star we… If that hypothesis of theirs be so… Said Ida; ‘let us down and rest;’… Down from the lean and wrinkled pr… By every coppice-feathered chasm a…
To-night ungather’d let us leave This laurel, let this holly stand: We live within the stranger’s land… And strangely falls our Christmas… Our father’s dust is left alone
. There lies a vale in Ida, lovel… Than all the valleys of Ionian hi… The swimming vapour slopes athwart… Puts forth an arm, and creeps from… And loiters, slowly drawn. On eit…
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar w… And lash with storm the streaming… Day, when my crown’d estate begun
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, So loud with voices of the birds, So thick with lowings of the herds… Day, when I lost the flower of me… Who tremblest thro’ thy darkling r…
Light, so low upon earth, You send a flash to the sun. Here is the golden close of love, All my wooing is done. Oh, all the woods and the meadows,
WARRIOR of God, man’s friend,… Now somewhere dead far in the wast… Thou livest in all hearts, for all… This earth has never borne a noble…
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the… And thro’ the field the road runs… To many—tower’d Camelot;
Is it, then, regret for buried tim… That keenlier in sweet April wake… And meets the year, and gives and… The colours of the crescent prime? Not all: the songs, the stirring a…
Still on the tower stood the vane, A black yew gloomed the stagnant a… I peered athwart the chancel pane And saw the altar cold and bare. A clog of lead was round my feet,
O true and tried, so well and long… Demand not thou a marriage lay; In that it is thy marriage day Is music more than any song. Nor have I felt so much of bliss
Once more the gate behind me falls… Once more before my face I see the moulder’d Abbey-walls, That stand within the chace. Beyond the lodge the city lies,