#EnglishWriters
TRUE Poets conquer Glory—do not… It; do not beg their way to Fame; Nor at her skirts in private bend… Nor sow the public broadcast with… They are the great High Priests o…
“So many are your foes, their arro… The very Sun with an eclipsing cl… “We’ll fight them in the dark then… Illumine with the lightning of the…
The stream of Life that brimmed i… We drain to gather Wisdom’s grain… And often as we count the riches o… Half wish our wealth were drowned…
There lives a voice within me, a g… And its sweet lispings win me, til… Up evermore it springeth, like som… And evermore it singeth this sweet… This world is full of beauty, as o…
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
A MERRY sound of clapping hands… A call to see the sight; And lo! the first soft snow-flakes… So exquisitely virginal: 'Tis my wee Nell at window stands…
SPIRIT Divine, we yearn and str… Within our souls to keep alive Some likeness of Thy love! But 'tis at best a glimpse, a glea… Uncertain as a troubled stream
One of God’s own Darlings was my… With her looks of love and sunshin… How it trembled through my life, l… How its music yearns through all m… How her beauty rainbows round me,…
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…
Upon us falls the shadow of night, And darkened is our day! My Love will greet the morning li… Four hundred miles away. God love her! torn so swift and fa…
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…
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…
‘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,
We thank Thee, Lord, for one day To look Heaven in the face! The Poor have only Sunday; The sweeter is the grace. 'Tis then they make the music
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