#EnglishWriters
Though, if you ask her name, she s… Being plain Elizabeth, e’en let i… And own that, if her aspirates tak… She ever makes a point, in washing… Handling the engine, turning taps…
Bring her again, O western wind, Over the western sea! Gentle and good and fair and kind, Bring her again to me! Not that her fancy holds me dear,
In the year that’s come and gone,… Stooping slowly, gave us heart, an… In the year that’s coming on, thou… We at least will not forget aught… In the year that’s come and gone,…
Take, dear, my little sheaf of son… For, old or new, All that is good in them belongs Only to you; And, singing as when all was young…
O gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes… And winter waits behind it. For with the dream foregone, foreg…
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;
SONS of Shannon, Tamar, Trent, Men of the Lothians, Men of Kent… Essex, Wessex, shore and shire, Mates of the net, the mine, the fi… Lads of the wheel and desk and loo…
The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain.
From the winter’s grey despair, From the summer’s golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever. Inevitable, silent, unseen,
Behold me waiting-waiting for the… A little while, and at a leap I s… The thick, sweet mystery of chloro… The drunken dark, the little death… The gods are good to me: I have n…
The Artist muses at his ease, Contented that his work is done, And smiling-smiling!-as he sees His crowd collecting, one by one. Alas! his travail’s but begun!
His beat lies knee—high through a… A dust of terror and torture, grie… Ghosts that are England’s wonder,… Throng where he walks, an antic of… A sense of long immedicable tears
Praise the generous gods for givin… In a world of wrath and strife, With a little time for living, Unto all the joy of life. At whatever source we drink it,
Gulls in an aery morrice Gleam and vanish and gleam . . . The full sea, sleepily basking, Dreams under skies of dream. Gulls in an aery morrice
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,