#EnglishWriters #Victorian
Come down, O maid, from yonder mo… What pleasure lives in height (the… In height and cold, the splendour… But cease to move so near the Hea… To glide a sunbeam by the blasted…
Where Claribel low—lieth The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose—leaves fall: But the solemn oak—tree sigheth, Thick—leaved, ambrosial,
WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn… In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow’d back with… The forward-flowing tide of time; And many a sheeny summer-morn,
In Love, if Love be Love, if Lov… Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equ… Unfaith in aught is want of faith… It is the little rift within the l… That by and by will make the music…
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, an… Turn thy wild wheel thro’ sunshine… Thy wheel and thee we neither love… Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel wit… With that wild wheel we go not up…
Strong Son of God, immortal Love… Whom we, that have not seen thy fa… By faith, and faith alone, embrace… Believing where we cannot prove; Thine are these orbs of light and…
Comrades, leave me here a little,… Leave me here, and when you want m… ’T is the place, and all around it… Dreary gleams about the moorland f… Locksley Hall, that in the distan…
Dosn’t thou ‘ear my ’erse’s legs,… Proputty, proputty, proputty—that’… Proputty, proputty, proputty—Sam,… Theer’s moor sense i’ one o’ 'is l… Woä—theer’s a craw to pluck wi’ th…
You ask me, why, tho’ ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till,
Excerpt from “Maud” She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed;
O maiden, fresher than the first g… With which the fearful springtide… Weep not, Almeida, that I said to… That thou hast half my heart, for… Doth hold the other half in sovran…
The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast, Has never thought that “this is I… But as he grows he gathers much,
Who would be A mermaid fair, Singing alone, Combing her hair Under the sea,
O you chorus of indolent reviewers… Irresponsible, indolent reviewers, Look, I come to the test, a tiny… All composed in a metre of Catull… All in quantity, careful of my mot…
There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the south that darkens th… Storm of battle and thunder of war… Well, if it do not roll our way. Form! form! Riflemen form!