#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Two separate divided silences, Which, brought together, would fin… Two glances which together would r… In love, now lost like stars beyon… Two hands apart whose touch alone…
In France (to baffle thieves and… A journey takes two days of passpo… At least. The plan’s sometimes a… But bears its fruit. Because, the… In passing by the Morgue, we saw…
DERE was an old nigger, and him… And him tale was rather slow; Me try to read de whole, but me on… Because me found it no go. Den hang up de auther Mrs. Stowe,
Some prisoned moon in steep cloud—… Throned queen and thralled; some d… Blazed with momentous memorable fi… Who hath not yearned and fed his h… Who, sleepless, hath not anguished…
Thou lovely and beloved, thou my l… Whose kiss seems still the first;… Even now, as for our love—world’s… Shed very dawn; whose voice, attun… All modulation of the deep—bowered…
Your hands lie open in the long fr… The finger—points look through lik… Your eyes smile peace. The pastur… ‘Neath billowing skies that scatte… All round our nest, far as the eye…
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…
Is it this sky’s vast vault or oce… That is Life’s self and draws my… And by instinct ineffable decree Holds my breath quailing on the bi… Nay, is it Life or Death, thus th…
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…
“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…
Have you not noted, in some family Where two were born of a first mar… How still they own their gracious… And nursed on the forgotten breast… How to their father’s children the…
THERE’S a female bard, grim as… Who daily grows shakier and shakie…
A constant keeping—past of shaken… And a bewildered glitter of loose… Banks of bright growth, with singl… Against white sky; and wires—a con… That seem to draw the clouds along…
Epitaph All beauty to pourtray, Therein his duty lay, And still through toilsome strife Duty to him was life—