#EnglishWriters
Oh for a field, my friend; oh for… I ask no more Than one plain field, shut in by h… Contentment sweet to yield. For I am not fastidious,
Warriors! who from the cannon’s mo… Your fame to raise, Upon its blaze, Alas! ye do but light your funeral… Tempting Fate’s stroke;
Give that brief to me, Without so much bother; Never let it be Given to another. Why this coy resistance?
You say ‘tis plain that poets feig… And from the truth depart; They write with ease what fibs the… With artifice, not art; Dearer to you the simply true—
The times still “grow to something… We rap and turn the tables; We fire our guns at awful range; We lay Atlantic cables; We bore the hills, we bridge the s…
Nothing so true as what you once l… “To growl at something is the lot… Contentment is a gem on earth unkn… And Perfect Happiness the wizard’… Give me,” you cried, “to see my du…
Oh, saw ye my own true love, I pr… My own true love so sweete? For the flowers have lightly toss’… The prynte of her faery feete. Now, how can we telle if she passe…
In Egypt’s sandy silence, all alo… Stands a gigantic Leg, which far… The only shadow that the Desert k… “I am great Ozymandias,” saith th… “The King of Kings; this mighty…
In olden time—in great Eliza’s ag… When rare Ben Jonson ruled the hu… No play without its Prologue migh… To earn applause or ward the criti… And surely now old customs should…
And Willie, my eldest born, is go… Ruddy and white, and strong on his… He was only fourscore years, quite… I ought to have gone before, but m… So Harry’s wife has written; she…
Sleep, little baby, sleep, love, s… Evening is coming, and night is ni… Under the lattice the little birds… All will be sleeping by and by. Sleep, little baby, sleep.
The linnet had flown from its cage… And flitted and sang in the light… Had flown from the lady who loved… In Liberty’s freer air to dwell. Alas! poor bird, it was soon to pr…
Champagne doth not a luncheon make… Nor caviare a meal; Men gluttonous and rich may take These till they make them ill. If I’ve potatoes to my chop,
Thanks for an hour of laughing In a world that is growing old; Thanks for an hour of weeping In a world that is growing cold; For we who have wept with Dickens…
Three attorneys came sailing down… Down Chancery Lane e’er the court… They thought of the leaders they o… But the Junior Bar, oh, they thou… For serjeants get work and Q.C.'s…