#EnglishWriters #Victorian
LEAVES and rain and the days of… (Water—willow and wellaway,) All these fall, and my soul gives… And she is hence who once was here… (With a wind blown night and day.)
THE wounded hart and the dying sw… Were side by side Where the rushes coil with the tur… The hart and the swan. AS much as in a hundred years, sh…
It is grey tingling azure overhead With silver drift. Beneath, where… The trees are reared, the distance… At peace: and on this side the who… For sowing and for harvest, subjec…
GETTING his pictures, like his… Far, far away in Belfast by the s… His watchful one—eyed uninvaded sl… MacCracken sleepeth. While the P… Must keep the shady side, he walks…
CON manto d’oro, collana, ed anel… Le piace aver con quelli Non altro che una rosa ai suoi cap… WITH golden mantle, rings, and n… It likes her best to wear
O leave your hand where it lies co… Upon the eyes whose lids are hot: Its rosy shade is bountiful Of silence, and assuages thought. O lay your lips against your hand
Behold, even I, even I am Beatri… (Div. Com. Purg. xxx.) OF Florence and of Beatrice Servant and singer from of old, O’er Dante’s heart in youth had t…
Each hour until we meet is as a bi… That wings from far his gradual wa… The rustling covert of my soul,—hi… Still loudlier trilled through lea… But at the hour of meeting, a clea…
THAT voice I hear,—how heard I… Although my home is this, seems fr… There… still it trails along and m… Like the slow death of sound withi… Or like the humming whine in some…
Ye who have passed Death’s haggar… Whom trees that knew your sires sh… And still stand silent:—is it all… A wisp that laughs upon the wall?—… Of some inexorable supremacy
Of her two fights with the Beryl—… Lost the first, but the second won… “MARY mine that art Mary’s Rose Come in to me from the garden—clos… The sun sinks fast with the rising…
The lilies stand before her like a… Through which, upon this warm and… God surely hears. For there she k… Who wafts our prayers to God—Mary… She was Faith’s Present, parting…
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…
I said: “Nay, pluck not,—let the… Even as thou sayest, it is sweet a… But let it ripen still. The tree’… Sees in the stream its own fecundi… And bides the day of fulness. Sha…
As when desire, long darkling, daw… The mother looks upon the newborn… Even so my Lady stood at gaze and… When her soul knew at length the… Born with her life, creature of po…