#EnglishWriters #Victorian
MY young lord’s the lover Of earth and sky above, Of youth’s sway and youth’s play, Of songs and flowers and love. Yet for love’s desire
This feast—day of the sun, his alt… In the broad west has blazed for v… And I have loitered in the vale t… And gaze now a belated worshipper. Yet may I not forget that I was '…
“I love you, sweet: how can you ev… How much I love you?” “You I lov… And so I learn it.” “Sweet, you c… How fair you are.” “If fair enoug… Your love, so much is all my love’…
From child to youth; from youth to… From lethargy to fever of the hear… From faithful life to dream—dower’… From trust to doubt; from doubt to… Thus much of change in one swift c…
First Snow, February WOOLNER, to—night it snows for… Our feet know well the path where… Mine leave one track: how all the… Are hoary in the long—unwonted rim…
SHE fluted with her mouth as when… And gently waved her golden head,… Outside his cage close to the wind… Till her fond bird, with little tu… Piped low to her of sweet companio…
Upon a Flemish road, when noon wa… I passed a little consecrated shri… Where, among simple pictures range… The blessed Mary holds her child… To kneel here, shepherd—maidens le…
So then, the name which travels si… With English life from childhood—… Means this. The sun is setting. “… Till the sunset, and ended,” says… It lacked the “chord” by stage—use…
Here meet together the prefiguring… And day prefigured. “Eating, thou… Feet shod, loins girt, thy road—st… With blood—stained door and lintel… By Moses’ mouth in ages passed aw…
“O WOODMAN, spare that block, Oh gash not anyhow! It took ten days by clock, I’d fain protect it now.” Chorus—Wild Laughter from Dalzie…
LOVE, I speak to your heart, Your heart that is always here. Oh draw me deep to its sphere, Though you and I are apart, And yield, by the spirit’s art,
On the first day the priest Could find no heart in the beast, And two on the second day.
(In the Louvre) SCARCELY, I think; yet it inde… The meaning reached him, when this… Clear through his frame, a sweet p… And he beheld these rocks and that…
MAGGIOR dolore è ben la Ricord… O nell’ amaro inferno amena stanza…