#EnglishWriters #Victorian
A little while a little love The hour yet bears for thee and me Who have not drawn the veil to see If still our heaven be lit above. Thou merely, at the day’s last sig…
ROSE—SHEATHED beside the ros… Lurks the young adder’s tooth; Milk—mild from new—born hemlock—bl… The earliest drops are wrung: And sweet the flower of his first…
As the child knows not if his moth… Be fair; nor of his elders yet can… What each most is; but as of hill… At dawn, all glimmering life surro… Who yet, tow’rd noon of his half—w…
What other woman could be loved li… Or how of you should love possess… After the fulness of all rapture,… As at the end of some deep avenue A tender glamour of day,—there com…
“Messieurs, le Dieu des peintres”… 'Twas Rubens, sculptured. A mean… Was the next thing we saw,—from va… His drivel. The museum: as we tro… Its steps, his bust held us at bay…
THIS is the place. Even here the… The unflinching hand, wrought on;… As on that very bed, his life part… New birth, and passed. Yon river’… Whereto the close—built coiling la…
Beholding youth and hope in mocker… From life; and mocking pulses that… When the soul’s death of bodily de… Honour unknown, and honour known u… And penury’s sedulous self—torturi…
(In the Academy of Bruges) MYSTERY: God, man’s life, born… Of woman. There abideth on her br… The ended pang of knowledge, the w… Is calm assured. Since first her…
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…
Could Juno’s self more sovereign… Than thou, 'mid other ladies thron… Or Pallas, when thou bend’st with… O’er poet’s page gold—shadowed in… Dost thou than Venus seem less he…
ENTER Skald, moored in a punt, And jacks and tenches exeunt.
This sunlight shames November whe… In dead red leaves, and will not l… The day, though bough with bough b… But with a blessing every glade re… High salutation; while from hilloc…
I. ST. LUKE THE PAINTER Give honour unto Luke Evangelist; For he it was (the aged legends sa… Who first taught Art to fold her… Scarcely at once she dared to rend…
HO ye that nothing have to lose!… Come from the sinks of the New Cu… Did ye not hear the mighty sound b… The Seven Dials strike the hour o… Ho cock your eyes, my gallant pals…
UNCERTAIN—AGED Miss Thereab… Tough fossil of her teens, Has lifted up with saving hand The ruined Smithereens. Down the dark steps of debt that h…