#EnglishWriters
This was the woman; what now of th… But pass him. If he comes beneath… He shall be crushed until he canno… Or, being callous, haply till he c… But he is nothing:—nothing? Only…
Not ere the bitter herb we taste, Which ages thought of happy times, To plant us in a weeping waste, Rings with our fellows this one he… Accordant chimes.
No, no, the falling blossom is no… Of loveliness destroy’d and sorrow… The blossom sheds its loveliness d… Its mission is to prophecy the fru… Nor is the day of love for ever de…
At dinner, she is hostess, I am h… Went the feast ever cheerfuller?… The Topic over intellectual deeps In buoyancy afloat. They see no g… With sparkling surface-eyes we ply…
With Life and Death I walked whe… And made them on each side a shado… Through wooded vales the land of d… Where down smooth rapids whirls th… To fall on daylight; and night put…
Violets, shy violets! How many hearts with you compare! Who hide themselves in thickest gr… And thence, unseen, Ravish the enraptured air
With love exceeding a simple love… That glide in grasses and rubble o… Or change their perch on a beat of… From branch to branch, only restfu… Or, bristled, curl at a touch thei…
The long cloud edged with streamin… Soars from the West; The red leaf mounts with it away, Showing the nest A blot among the branches bare:
Prince of Bards was old Aneurin; He the grand Gododin sang; All his numbers threw such fire in… Struck his harp so wild a twang; - Still the wakeful Briton borrows
A brook glancing under green leave… And full of a gurgling melody ever… Renewed thro’ all changes of Heav… Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed…
O my lover! the night like a broad… Bears us onward, and morn, a black… How I shuddered-I knew not that… Till I looked on thy face:- then… Then I felt like a thing caught b…
Swept from his fleet upon that fat… When great Poseidon’s sudden-veer… Scattered the happy homeward-float… Like foam-flakes off the waves, th… Held lofty commune with the dark…
1—I When the South sang like a nighti… Above a bower in May, The training of Love’s vine of fl… Was writ in laws, for lord and dam…
Ladies who in chains of wedlock Chafe at an unequal yoke, Not to nightingales give hearing; Better this, the raven’s croak. Down the Prado strolled my seigne…
Night, like a dying mother, Eyes her young offspring, Day. The birds are dreamily piping. And O, my love, my darling! The night is life ebb’d away: