#English #Victorians
I wage not any feud with Death For changes wrought on form and fa… No lower life that earth’s embrace May breed with him, can fright my… Eternal process moving on,
Thy voice is heard thro’ rolling d… That beat to battle where he stand… Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow,
Our enemies have fall’n, have fall… The little seed they laugh’d at in… Has risen and cleft the soil, and… Of spanless girth, that lays on ev… A thousand arms and rushes to the…
O beauty, passing beauty! Sweetes… How can thou let me waste my youth… I only ask to sit beside thy feet. Thou knowest I dare not look into… Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare…
O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flyin… Fly to her, and fall upon her gild… And tell her, tell her, what I te… O tell her, Swallow, thou that kn… That bright and fierce and fickle…
Where Claribel low—lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose—leaves fall: But the solemn oak—tree sigheth, Thick—leaved, ambrosial,
Faint as a climate-changing bird t… All night across the darkness, and… Falls on the threshold of her nati… And can no more, thou camest, O m… Led upward by the God of ghosts a…
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go,
Illyrian woodlands, echoing falls Of water, sheets of summer glass, The long divine Peneian pass, The vast Akrokeraunian walls, Tomohrit, Athos, all things fair,
'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now… Nor waves the cypress in the palac… Nor winks the gold fin in the porp… The fire-fly wakens: wake thou wit… Now droops the milkwhite peacock l…
OLD FITZ, who from your suburb… Where once I tarried for a while, Glance at the wheeling orb of chan… And greet it with a kindly smile; Whom yet I see as there you sit
When cats run home and light is co… And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round,
Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my… To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou woul… There let the wind sweep and the p…
Live thy Life, Young and old, Like yon oak, Bright in spring, Living gold;
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…
