#EnglishWriters
I, wakeful for the skylark voice i… Or straining for the angel of the… Rebuked am I by hungry ear and si… When I behold one lamp that throu… Goes hourly where most noisome; he…
We who have seen Italia in the th… Half risen but to be hurled to gro… Like a ripe field of wheat where o… All bounteous as she is fair, we t… Who blew the breath of life into h…
A brook glancing under green leave… And full of a gurgling melody ever… Renewed thro’ all changes of Heav… Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed…
‘In Paris, at the Louvre, there h… The sumptuously-feathered angel pi… Prone Lucifer, descending. Looked… Showing the fight a fair one? Too… The young Pharsalians did not dis…
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.
Day of the cloud in fleets! O day Of wedded white and blue, that sai… Immingled, with a footing ray In shadow—sandals down our vale!— And swift to ravish golden meads,
On my darling’s bosom Has dropped a living rosy bud, Fair as brilliant Hesper Against the brimming flood. She handles him,
How many a thing which we cast to… When others pick it up becomes a g… We grasp at all the wealth it is t… And by reflected light its worth i… Yet for us still ’tis nothing! and…
Oracle of the market! thence you d… The taste which stamped you guide… A North-sea pilot, Hildebrand ycl… A sturdy and a briny, once men kne… He loved small beer, and for that…
How smiles he at a generation rank… In gloomy noddings over life! The… Not he to feed upon a breast untha… Or eye a beauteous face in a crack… But he can spy that little twist o…
Of me and of my theme think what t… The song of gladness one straight… But I have never stood at Fortune… Were she and her light crew to run… At my poor holding little would be…
The old hound wags his shaggy tail… And I know what he would say: It’s over the hills we’ll bound, o… Over the hills, and away. There’s nought for us here save to…
We saw the swallows gathering in t… And in the osier-isle we heard the… We had not to look back on summer… Or forward to a summer of bright d… But in the largeness of the evenin…
Fleck of sky you are, Dropped through branches dark, O my little one, mine! Promise of the star, Outpour of the lark;
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…