#EnglishWriters
I wandered out one rainy day And heard a bird with merry joys Cry 'wet my foot’ for half the way… I stood and wondered at the noise, When from my foot a bird did flee—
The Spring is come, and Spring fl… The crocus, patty kay, the rich he… The polyanthus peeps with blebs of… And daisy flowers; the buds swell… While oer the odd flowers swim gra…
Love, meet me in the green glen, Beside the tall elm—tree, Where the sweetbriar smells so swe… There come with me. Meet me in the green glen.
Say, wilt thou go with me, sweet m… Say, maiden, wilt thou go with me Through the valley—depths of shade… Of bright and dark obscurity; Where the path has lost its way,
For Sunday’s play he never makes… But plays at taw, and buys his Sp… Hard as his toil, and ever slow to… Yet he gives maidens many a burnin… For none can pass him but his witl…
Come queen of months in company Wi all thy merry minstrelsy The restless cuckoo absent long And twittering swallows chimney so… And hedge row crickets notes that…
Daughter of pastoral smells and si… And sultry days and dewy nights July resumes her yearly place Wi her milking maiden face Ruddy and tand yet sweet to view
On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonel… I’ve seen the winter floods their… Through each old arch that tremble… Bent o’er its wall to watch the da… As their old stations would be was…
Sweet chestnuts brown like soling… The larch trees, like the colour o… That paled sky in the Autumn seem… What a strange scene before us now… Red, brown, and yellow, russet, bl…
He eats (a moment’s stoppage to hi… The stolen turnip as he goes along… And hops along and heeds with care… The passing crowded stage coach re… He talks to none but wends his sil…
July the month of summers prime Again resumes her busy time Scythes tinkle in each grassy dell Where solitude was wont to dwell And meadows they are mad with nois…
The holly bush, a sober lump of gr… Shines through the leafless shrubs… And smiles at winter be it eer so… With all the leafy luxury of May. And O it is delicious, when the d…
How oft on Sundays, when I’d time… My rambles led me to a gipsy’s cam… Where the real effigy of midnight… With tawny smoked flesh and tatter… Uncouth—brimmed hat, and weather—b…
Stopt by the storm, that long in s… From the south—west stained its en… Haymakers, hustling from the rain… Sought the grey willows by the pas… And there, while big drops bow the…
I hid my love when young till I Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly… I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at… I dare not gaze upon her face