#EnglishWriters
Under yonder beech—tree single on… Couched with her arms behind her g… Knees and tresses folded to slip a… Lies my young love sleeping in the… Had I the heart to slide an arm b…
Flowers of the willow-herb are woo… Flowers of the briar berries red; Speeding their seed as the breeze… Flowers of the thistle loosen the… Flowers of the clematis drip in be…
Violets, shy violets! How many hearts with you compare! Who hide themselves in thickest gr… And thence, unseen, Ravish the enraptured air
Now the North wind ceases, The warm South-west awakes; Swift fly the fleeces, Thick the blossom-flakes. Now hill to hill has made the stri…
Never, O never, Since dewy sweet Flora Was ravished by Zephyr, Was such a thing heard In the valleys so hollow!
Captive on a foreign shore, Far from Ilion’s hoary wave, Agamemnon’s bridal slave Speaks Futurity no more: Death is busy with her grave.
This golden head has wit in it. I… Again, and a far higher life, near… Some women like a young philosophe… Perchance because he is diminutive… For woman’s manly god must not exc…
See the sweet women, friend, that… The ever-falling fountain of green… Round the white bending stem, and… Of our most blushful flower shine… To teach philosophers the thirst o…
Men the Angels eyed; And here they were wild waves, And there as marsh descried; Men the Angels eyed, And liked the picture best
In Progress you have little faith… Men will maintain dear interests,… By force, and gentle women choose… Most amorously from the gilded fig… The human heart Bellona’s mad hal…
But where began the change; and wh… The wretch condemned, who has not… Chafes at his sentence. Shall I,… Drag on Love’s nerveless body thr… I must have slept, since now I wa…
Queen Theodolind has built In the earth a furnace-bed: There the Traitor Nail that spilt Blood of the anointed Head, Red of heat, resolves in shame:
By this he knew she wept with waki… That, at his hand’s light quiver b… The strange low sobs that shook th… Were called into her with a sharp… And strangled mute, like little ga…
I would I were the drop of rain That falls into the dancing rill, For I should seek the river then, And roll below the wooded hill, Until I reached the sea.
Mark where the pressing wind shoot… Its skeleton shadow on the broad-b… Here is a fitting spot to dig Lov… Here where the ponderous breakers… And dart their hissing tongues hig…