#EnglishWriters
Last June I saw your face three t… Three times I touched your hand; Now, as before, May month is o’er… And June is in the land. O many Junes shall come and go,
Out of town the sky was bright and… Never fog-cloud, lowering, thick,… Nature dons a garb of gayer hue, Out of town. Spotless lay the snow on field and…
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…
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
Most wonderful and strange it seem… Who but a little time ago was tost High on the waves of passion and o… With aching heat and wildly throbb… Who peered into the darkness, deem…
In the night I dreamed of you; All the place was filled With your presence; in my heart The strife was stilled. All night I have dreamed of you;
Ere all the world had grown so dre… When I was young and you were her… ‘Mid summer roses in summer weathe… What pleasant times we’ve had toge… We were not Phyllis, simple-sweet…
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…
(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…
At last; so this is you, my dear! How should I guess to find you he… So long, so long, I sought in vai… In many cities, many lands, With straining eyes and groping ha…
In through the porch and up the si… Little is changed, I know so well… Here, the dead came to meet me; it… The dream was dreamed in unforgott… But who is this that hurries on be…
With Apologies to Mr. Swinbur… For repose I have sighed and have… I am held in the Circle of Being… I was wan and weary with life ; my… I was weary of women and war and t…
I lay beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue. I shut my eyes, and a fancy
The people take the thing of co… They marvel not to see This strange, unnatural divorce Betwixt delight and me. I know the face of sorrow, and I…
Since that I may not have Love on this side the grave, Let me imagine Love. Since not mine is the bliss Of ‘claspt hands and lips that kis…