#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
It’s a very odd thing - As odd can be - That whatever Miss T eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples,
No breath of wind, No gleam of sun— Still the white snow Whirls softly down Twig and bough
Speak not – whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower. Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
Puss loves man’s winter fire Now that the sun so soon Leaves the hours cold it warmed In burning June. She purrs full length before
Dearest, it was a night That in its darkness rocked Orion… A sighing wind ran faintly white Along the willows, and the cedar b… Laid their wide hands in stealthy…
Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Someone came knocking; I’m sure-sure-sure; I listened, I opened,
I spied John Mouldy in his celler… Deep down twenty steps of stone; In the dusk he sat a-smiling Smiling there all alone. He read no book, he snuffed no can…
That one, alone, Who’s dared and gone To seek the Magic Wonderstone, No fear, or care, Or black despair
Ever, ever Stir and shiver The reeds and rushes By the river: Ever, ever,
The far moon maketh lovers wise In her pale beauty trembling down, Lending curved cheeks, dark lips,… A strangeness not their own. And, though they shut their lids t…
To Edward Thomas The haze of noon wanned silver-gre… The soundless mansion of the sun; The air made visible in his ray, Like molten glass from furnace run…
The seeds I sowed – For week unseen – Have pushed up pygmy Shoots of green; So frail you’d think
Through the green twilight of a he… I peered, with cheek on the cool l… And spied a bird upon a nest: Two eyes she had beseeching me Meekly and brave, and her brown br…
As I mused by the hearthside, Puss said to me; ‘there burns the fire, man, and here sit we. Four walls around us
I think and think: yet still I fa… Why must this lady wear a veil? Why thus elect to mask her face Beneath that dainty web of lace? The tip of a small nose I see,