#EnglishWriters
Some three, or five, or seven, and… A Roman nose; a dimpling double-c… Dark eyes and shy that, ignorant o… Are yet acquainted, it would seem,… A comely shape; a slim, high-colou…
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance
A wink from Hesper, falling Fast in the wintry sky, Comes through the even blue, Dear, like a word from you… Is it good-bye?
If I were king, my pipe should be… The skies of time and chance are s… We would inform them all with blan… Delight alone would need to shed a… For dream and deed should war no m…
From brief delights that rise to m… Out of unfathomable dole, I thank whatever gods there be For mine unconquerable soul. In the strong clutch of Circumsta…
In the waste hour Between to-day and yesterday We watched, while on my arm - Living flesh of her flesh, bone of… Dabbled in sweat the sacred head
O, have you blessed, behind the st… The blue sheen in the skies, When June the roses round her cal… Then do you know the light that fa… From her belovèd eyes.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no regret For all the tumult that had been. The distances were still and green… And streaked with shadows cool and…
Kate-a-Whimsies, John-a-Dream Still debating, still delay, And the world’s a ghost that gleam… Wavers– vanishes away! We must live while live we can;
On the way to Kew, By the river old and gray, Where in the Long Ago, We laughed and loitered so, I met a ghost to-day,
A LATE lark twitters from the qu… And from the west, Where the sun, his day’s work ende… Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city
Fresh from his fastnesses Wholesome and spacious, The North Wind, the mad huntsman, Halloas on his white hounds Over the grey, roaring
Beside the idle summer sea, And in the vacant summer days, Light Love came fluting down the… Where you were loitering with me. Who have not welcomed even as we,
Kate-a-Whimsies, John-a-Dreams, Still debating, still delay, And the world’s a ghost that gleam… Wavers—vanishes away! We must live while live we can;
What have I done for you, England, my England? What is there I would not do, England, my own? With your glorious eyes austere,