#EnglishWriters #Victorian
From child to youth; from youth to… From lethargy to fever of the hear… From faithful life to dream—dowere… From trust to doubt; from doubt to… Thus much of change in one swift c…
What of her glass without her? Th… There where the pool is blind of t… Her dress without her? The tossed… Of cloud—rack whence the moon has… Her paths without her? Day’s appo…
Strong extreme speed, that the bra… Further than trees, and hedges, an… Whitened by distance,—further than… Held among fields and gardens,—fur… Haystacks and windmill—sails and r…
Not by one measure mayst thou mete… For how should I be loved as I lo… I, graceless, joyless, lacking abs… All gifts that with thy queenship… Thou, throned in every heart’s ele…
SHE bowed her face among them all… By one they rose and went. A litt… They showed—a very little. More f… She seemed because of that: she mi… Proud else in her turn, and have s…
Mother, is this the darkness of th… The Shadow of Death? and is that… Infinite imminent Eternity? And does the death—pang by man’s s… In Time’s each instant cause thy…
On this sweet bank your head thric… I lay, and spread your hair on eit… And see the newborn woodflowers ba… Look through the golden tresses he… On these debateable borders of the…
I KNOW not how it is, I have th… In lazy moods, of seeking no excus… But holding that man’s ease must b… Of man’s philosophy, I give the s… To thought, and lounge at shuffle…
I LOOKED and saw your eyes In the shadow of your hair, As a traveller sees the stream In the shadow of the wood; And I said, “My faint heart sighs…
“DIGITUM tuum, Thoma, Infer, et vide manûs! Manum tuam, Thoma, Affer, et mitte in latus.” “Dominus et Deus,
This is her picture as she was: It seems a thing to wonder on, As though mine image in the glass Should tarry when myself am gone. I gaze until she seems to stir,—
Not in thy body is thy life at all But in this lady’s lips and hands… Through these she yields thee life… What else were sorrow’s servant an… Look on thyself without her, and r…
I Catherine am a Douglas born, A name to all Scots dear; And Kate Barlass they’ve called m… Through many a waning year. This old arm’s withered now. ‘Twa…
“WHY wilt thou cast the roses fro… Nay, be thou all a rose,—wreath, l… Nay, not this house,—that banquet—… See how they kiss and enter; come… This delicate day of love we two w…
Bless love and hope. Full many a… Whirled past us, eddying to its ch… And clasped together where the blo… We long have knelt and wept full m… Yet lo! one hour at last, the Spr…