#EnglishWriters
(TO JOHN FRASER) There, in my mind’s-eye, pure it l… My lodger’s vote! ’Twas mine to-d… It seemed a sort of maidenhood, My little power for public good,—
Face in the tomb, that lies so sti… May I draw near, And watch you sleep and love you, Without word or tear? You smile, your eyelids flicker;
Darling little woman, just a littl… Just a little silver word For that dear gold of thine, Only a whisper you have so often h… Only such a whisper as hidden in a…
So many times the heart can break, So many ways, Yet beat along and beat along So many days. A fluttering thing we never see,
I see fair women all the day, They pass and pass-and go; I almost dream that they are shade… Within a shadow-show. Their beauty lays no hand on me,
To James Ashcroft Noble, Poet and Critic, a small acknowle… unforgotten kindness Inscriptions Poet, a truce to your song!
Your birthday, sweetheart, is my b… For, had you not been born, I who began to live beholding you Up early as the morn, That day in June beside the rose-…
Fragoletta, blessed one, What think you of the light of the… Do you think the dark was best, Lying snug in mother’s breast? Ah! I knew that sweetness, too,
Always thy book, too late acknowle… Now when thine eyes no earthly pag… Blinded with death, or blinded wit… Of love’s own lore celestial. Sma… Forsooth, for thee to read my eart…
When last I saw this opening rose That holds the summer in its hand, And with its beauty overflows And sweetens half a shire of land, It was a black and cindered thing,
You often ask me, love, how much… Bidding my fancy find An answer to your mind; I say: ‘Past count, as there are… You shake your head and say,
On drives the road-another mile! a… Time’s horses gallop down the less… O why such haste, with nothing at… Fain are we all, grim driver, to d… And stretch with lingering feet th…
In an old book I found her face Writ by a dead man long ago– I found, and then I lost the plac… So nothing but her face I know, And her soft name writ fair below.
When that last pipe is smoked at l… And pouch and pipe put by, And Smoked and Smoker both alike In dust and ashes lie, What of the Smoker? Whither passe…
Water in hidden glens From the secret heart of the mount… Where the red fox hath its dens And the gods their crystal fountai… Up runnel and leaping cataract,