#EnglishWriters
I said-I care not if I can But look into her eyes again, But lay my hand within her hand Just once again. Though all the world be filled wit…
‘The daffodils are fine this year,… ‘O yes, but see my crocuses,’ said… And so we entered in and sat at ta… Within a little parlour bowered ab… With garden-noises, filled with ga…
With Pipe and Book at close of da… Oh, what is sweeter, mortal, say? It matters not what book on knee, Old Izaak or the Odyssey, It matters not meerschaum or clay.
Singers all along the street, Singing every kind of song– One man’s song is honey-sweet, One man’s song is hammer-strong; Yet, however sweet the singing,
To James Ashcroft Noble, Poet and Critic, a small acknowle… unforgotten kindness Inscriptions Poet, a truce to your song!
What shall I sing when all is sun… And every tale is told, And in the world is nothing young That was not long since old? Why should I fret unwilling ears
Alone! once more alone! how like a… My little parlour sounds which onl… Yearned like some holy chancel wit… So still! so empty! Surely one mi… The walls should meet in ruinous c…
My dryad hath her hiding place Among ten thousand trees. She flies to cover At step of a lover, And where to find her lovely face
Poet, whose words are like the tig… Sealed in the capsule of a silver… Still at your art we wonder as we… The art dynamic charging each word… Seeds of the silver flower of Eme…
The Cry of the Little Peoples we… The Czech and the Pole, and the… We ask but a little portion of the… Only to sow and sing and reap in t… We ask not coaling stations, nor p…
She’s somewhere in the sunlight st… Her tears are in the falling ra… She calls me in the wind’s soft so… And with the flowers she comes… Yon bird is but her messenger,
At last I got a letter from the d… And out of it there fell a little… The violet of an unforgotten hour.
Not that Queen Venus of adulterou… Whose love was lust’s insatiable f… Not hers the house I would be sin… Whose loose-lipped servants seek a… But mine the Venus of that mornin…
(AFTER THE NORWEGIAN… Midnight, and through the blind th… On silver feet across the sleeping… Ah, moonlight, what is this thou a… Her breast, a great sweet lily in…
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,