#EnglishWriters
What ails my senses thus to cheat? What is it ails the place, That all the people in the street Should wear one woman’s face? The London trees are dusty-brown
Not in the street and not in the s… The street and square where you we… With shuttered casement your house… Men hush their voice when they spe… I, too, can play at the vain prete…
O God, my dream! I dreamed that y… Your mother hung above the couch a… Whereon you lay all white, and gar… With blooms of waxen whiteness. I… Up to your chamber-door, which sto…
What does youth know of love? Little enough, I trow! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead the rose. Nay, but of love
(A Fragment)>/i> What, have I waked again? I never… To see the rosy dawn, or ev’n this… Dull, solemn stillness, ere the da… The lamp burns low; low burns the…
Believe me, this was true last nig… Tho’ it is false to-day. —A.M.F. Robinson. A fair dream to my chamber flew: Such a crowd of folk that stirred,
(To Sylvia.) My Love, my Love, it was a day in… A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon… And all the eager people thronging… To that great hall, drawn by the m…
To E.M.S. Here, where your garden fenced abo… Here, where the unmoved summer air… With mixed delight of lavender and… Dreaming I linger in the noontide…
The sky is silver-grey; the long Slow waves caress the shore.- On such a day as this I have been… Who shall be glad no more.
Now is the perfect moment of the y… Half naked branches, half a mist o… Vivid and delicate the slopes appe… The cool, soft air is neither fier… And in the temperate sun we feel n…
She, who so long has lain Stone-stiff with folded wings, Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings. Brown nightingale, whose strain
(AN ECHO FROM A LARGE… That was love that I had before Years ago, when my heart was young… Ev’ry smile was a gem you wore; Ev’ry word was a sweet song sung.
With fruit and flowers the board i… The wine and laughter flow; I’ll not complain—could one expect So dull a world to know? You look across the fruit and flow…
So Mary died last night! To-day The news has travelled here. And Robert died at Michaelmas, And Walter died last year. I went at sunset up the lane,
Between the showers I went my way… The glistening street was bright w… It seemed that March had turned t… Between the showers. Above the shining roofs and towers