#EnglishWriters
O loveliest face, on which we look… Not without hope we may again beho… Somewhere, somehow, when we oursel… Where, Lucy, you have gone, this… That gathered beauty every changin…
There blooms a flower in Trebizon… Stored with such honey for the bee… (So saith the antique book I conn… Of such alluring fragrancy, Not sweeter smells the Eden-tree;
The world is wide-around yon court… Where dirty little children play, Another world of street on street Grows wide and wider every day. And round the town for endless mil…
Deem not my love is only for the b… The honey and the marble, that is… Tis so, Beloved, common loves con… Their treasury, and vanish like th… Nay, but my love’s a thing that’s…
From tavern to tavern Youth passes along, With an armful of girl And a heart full of song. From flower to flower
One asked of regret, And I made reply: To have held the bird, And let it fly; To have seen the star
May is back, and You and I Are at the stream again— The leaves are out, And all about The building birds begin
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
‘How many queens have ruled and pa… Since first we met; How thick and fast The letters used to come at first, How thin at last;
Little chipmunk, do you know All you mean to me?— She and I and Long Ago, And you there in the tree; With that nut between your paws,
Who was it swept against my door j… With rustling robes like Autumn’s… Ah! would it were thy gown against… Only thy gown once more. Sometimes the snow, sometimes the…
You ask and I send. It is well, y… A lily hangs dead on its stalk, ah… A dream hangs dead on a life it bl… Shall it flaunt its death where sa… In the cold dank wind of our memor…
THE solemn light behind the barns… The rising moon, the cricket’s cal… The August night, and you and I’… What is the meaning of it all! Has it a meaning, after all?
Primrose and Violet– May they help thee to forget All that love should not remember, Sweet as meadows after rain When the sun has come again,
One says he is immoral, and points… Warm sin in ruddy specks upon his… Bigot, one folly of the man you fl… Is more to God than thy lean life…