#EnglishWriters
At the coming up of Phoebus the a… Double-visaged stand the mountains… And with shadows dappled men sing… For they shudder chill, the earth-… black;
When comes the lighted day for men… Life’s meaning, with the work befo… Till this good gift of breath from… Earth will not hear her children’s… Deplore the chieftain fall’n in so…
On a starred night Prince Lucifer… Tired of his dark dominion swung t… Above the rolling ball in cloud pa… Where sinners hugged their spectre… Poor prey to his hot fit of pride…
I chanced upon an early walk to sp… A troop of children through an orc… The boughs hung low, the grass was… They had but to lift hands or wait For fruits to fill them; fruits we…
Long with us, now she leaves us; s… Beneath our sacred sod: A woman vowed to Good, whom all a… The daylight gift of God.
Her son, albeit the Muse’s livery And measured courtly paces rouse h… Naked and hairy in his savage haun… To Nature only will he bend the k… Spouting the founts of her distill…
I am not of those miserable males Who sniff at vice and, daring not… Do therefore hope for heaven. I t… Of all my deeds. The wind that fi… Propels; but I am helmsman. Am I…
Sprung of the father blood, the mo… Are they who point our pathway and… They rarely meet; one soars, one w… When they do meet, it is our earth… To see Life’s formless offspring…
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…
Demeter devastated our good land, In blackness for her daughter snat… Smoke-pillar or loose hillock was… Where soil had been to clasp warm… The wheat, vine, olive, ripe to S…
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…
Our Islet out of Helgoland, dismi… From his quaint tenement, quits ha… There lived with us a wagging humo… In that hound’s arch dwarf-legged…
They have no song, the sedges dry, And still they sing. It is within my breast they sing, As I pass by. Within my breast they touch a stri…
[Iliad, B. XIV. V. 394] Not the sea-wave so bellows abroad… Whipped from the sea’s deeps up by… Nay, nor is ever the roar of the f… Down along mountain-glades, when i…
The old grey Alp has caught the c… And the torrent river sings aloud; The glacier-green Rosanna sings An organ song of its upper springs… Foaming under the tiers of pine,