#EnglishWriters
As I mused by the hearthside, Puss said to me; ‘there burns the fire, man, and here sit we. Four walls around us
“Is there anybody there?” said the… Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champ… Of the forest’s ferny floor; And a bird flew up out of the turr…
Jagg’d mountain peaks and skies ic… Wall in the wild, cold scene below… Churches, farms, bare copse, the s… In freezing quiet of winter show; Where ink-black shapes on fields i…
What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass,
As Ann came in one summer’s day, She felt that she must creep, So silent was the clear cool house… It seemed a house of sleep. And sure, when she pushed open the…
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoo… This way, and that, she peers, and… Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch
Speak not ' whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower, Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
That one, alone, Who’s dared and gone To seek the Magic Wonderstone, No fear, or care, Or black despair
Wide are the meadows of night, And daisies are shinng there, Tossing their lovely dews, Lustrous and fair; And through these sweet fields go,
Far are those tranquil hills, Dyed with fair evening’s rose; On urgent, secret errand bent, A traveller goes. Approach him strangers three,
Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier’s boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are—
Dearest, it was a night That in its darkness rocked Orion… A sighing wind ran faintly white Along the willows, and the cedar b… Laid their wide hands in stealthy…
Dim-berried is the mistletoe With globes of sheenless grey, The holly mid ten thousand thorns Smoulders its fires away; And in the manger Jesus sleeps
Black lacqueys at the wide-flung d… Stand mute as men of wood. Gleams like a pool the ballroom fl… A burnished solitude. A hundred waxen tapers shine
I think and think: yet still I fa… Why must this lady wear a veil? Why thus elect to mask her face Beneath that dainty web of lace? The tip of a small nose I see,