#EnglishWriters
I’m not sorry I am older, love—ar… Over all youth’s fuss and flurry, All its everlasting hurry, All its solemn self-importance and… Perhaps we missed the highest reac…
Autumn and Winter, Summer and Spring— Hath Time no other song to sing? Weary we grow of the changeless tu… June—December,
The cowbells wander through the wo… ‘Neath arching boughs a stream sli… In all the ferny solitude A chipmunk and a butterfly Are all that is—and you and I.
Give me the lifted skirt, And the brave ways of wrong, The fist, the dagger and the sword… And the out-spoken song. Ah! bring me not the love
Love, art thou lonely to-day? Lost love that I never see, Love that, come noon or come night… Comes never to me; Love that I used to meet
Had I the gold that some so vainl… For my lost loves a temple would… A shrine for each dear name: there… Incense for ever, and hymns of gol… And I would live the remnant of m…
There is too much beauty upon this… For lonely men to bear, Too many eyes, too enchanted skies… Too many things too fair; And the man who would live the lif…
Her eyes are bluebells now, her vo… And the long sighing grass her ele… She who a woman was is now a star In the high heaven shining down on…
‘Alice, Alice, put on your things… The birds are calling, the church… The sun is shining, and I am here… Waiting—and waiting—for you, my de… Alice, Alice, doff your gown of n…
Strange little spring, by channels… Gentle, resistless, welling, welli… Through what blind ways, we know n… You darkling come to dance and dim… Strange little spring!
We thought that winter, love, woul… That the dark year had slain the i… Nor hoped that your soft hand, thi… Would lie, as now, in mine, belove… And, like some magic spring, your…
O golden day! O silver night! That brought my own true love at l… Ah, wilt thou drop from out our si… And drown within the past? One wave, no more, in life’s wide…
(January 19, 1909) Poet of doom, dementia, and death, Of beauty singing in a charnel hou… Like the lost soul of a poor moon-… With too much loving of some lord…
A battered swordsman, slashed and… I scarce had thought to fight agai… But love of the old game dies hard… So to’t, my lady, if you’re fain! I’m scarce the mettle to refrain,
April is in the world again, And all the world is filled with f… Flowers for others, not for me! For my one flower I cannot see, Lost in the April showers.