#EnglishWriters
They pity Pegasus because The Matrimonial Car he draws Along the ruts of life: And hot and dusty is the road, And heavy is the living load
HAS Man a spirit that’s more tha… A spirit that walks in sleep or in… Shakes off at will its dust of the… And, waking by night, goes wanderi… To work its wish with a noiseless…
I sometimes think that Shakespear… To me that very self so long conce… But if his soul my soul has lighte… I sometimes think it was to gaze o… To find, with loving wonder in his…
Who would not wish the Dead were… If we can dry the mourners’ tear? Who would not pray the Dead may s… When starving Orphans wake to wee…
Dear things! we would not have you… Your Ignorance is so charming! We… That greater knowledge might not l… Sure aid to blind obedience and de…
You are the Merry men, dwarfs of… Who can get your hand through the… And make your bells jingle outside… Prove there’s life beyond, and on… 'Tis trying to find that we are mo…
The flower you placed within my bu… Has faded; but there lives within… Another rose, unfolding hour by ho… Your beauty’s self in its immortal… So living-warm this dainty blossom…
WE are not only where we seem To live, but in some Astral gleam Dwell also in a world of dream! Some heavenward window opes above The shut-up soul, to lean out of,
A FEW more Meetings on the Deep… And partings on the shore; And then in Heaven at last we kee… Our tryst for evermore. A little further we must bear
‘TIS hard to die in Spring-time, When, to mock our bitter need, All life around runs over In its fullness without heed: New life for tiniest twig on tree,
Although its features fade in ligh… We have shadowy revealings of the… A little glimpse, when Spring unv… Of the Sleeping Beauty in the sou… A little drop of Heaven in each d…
Your tiny picture makes me yearn; We are so far apart! My Darling, I can only turn And kiss you in my heart. A thousand tender thoughts a-wing
AT the Last Day while all the re… Are soundly sleeping underground, He will be up clean-shaved and dre… An hour before the Trumpets sound…
WHEN the merry spring-tide Floods all the land; Nature hath a Mother’s heart, Gives with open hand; Flowers running up the lane
Slow step by step, day after day, I journey on my homeward way; And darkly dream the Land of Ligh… Is drawing near, night after night… Where I shall reach my Rest at la…