#EnglishWriters #Victorian
IT’S copied out at last: very poo… Writ in the cold, with pauses of t… Direct, dear William, to the Post… At Ghent—here written Gand—Gong,… We go to Antwerp first, but shall…
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in… There more than elsewhere,—is the… The right sown there hath still bo… The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence,… O’er weapons blessed for carnage,…
(To M.F.R.) SISTER, first shake we off the… Upon our feet, lest it defile the… Inscriptured, covering their sacre… Who lie i’ the aisles which keep t…
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…
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…
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.)
How large that thrush looks on the… A swarm of such, three little mont… Had hidden in the leaves and let n… Save by the outburst of their mins… A white flake here and there—a sno…
The hour which might have been yet… Which man’s and woman’s heart conc… Yet whereof life was barren,—on wh… Bides it the breaking of Time’s w… Bondchild of all consummate joys s…
This word had Merlin said from of… That out of the Oak Tree Shade In the day of France’s direst dul… God’s hand should send a Maid. And where Domremy, by Burgundy,
BETWEEN Holmscote and Hurstcot… The river—reaches wind, The whispering trees accept the br… The ripple’s cool and kind; With love low—whispered 'twixt the…
‘There is a budding morrow in midn… So sang our Keats, our English ni… And here, as lamps across the brid… In London’s smokeless resurrectio… Dark breaks to dawn. But o’er the…
WEARY already, weary miles to—ni… I walked for bed: and so, to get s… I dogged the flying moon with simi… And like a wisp she doubled on my… In ponds; and caught in tree—tops…
HEAVENBORN Helen, Sparta’s q… (O Troy Town!) Had two breasts of heavenly sheen, The sun and moon of the heart’s de… All Love’s lordship lay between.
Mother of the Fair Delight, Thou handmaid perfect in God’s si… Now sitting fourth beside the Thr… Thyself a woman—Trinity,— Being a daughter born to God,
I never reared a young Wombat To glad me with his pin—hole eye, But when he most was sweet & fat And tail—less; he was sure to die!