#EnglishWriters #RhymedStanza #Victorian
Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweet… How canst thou let me waste my you… I only ask to sit beside thy feet. Thou knowest I dare not look into… Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare…
O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer s… Rise in the spiritual rock, Flow thro’ our deeds and make them… That we may lift from out of dust
I send you here a sort of allegory… (For you will understand it) of a… A sinful soul possess’d of many gi… A spacious garden full of flowerin… A glorious Devil, large in heart…
Hark! the dogs howl! the sleetwind… The church-clocks knoll: the hours… I leave the dreaming world below. Blown o’er frore heads of hills I… Long narrowing friths and stripes…
Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed. To and fro they went
IT was the time when lilies blow, And clouds are highest up in air, Lord Ronald brought a lily-white… To give his cousin, Lady Clare. I trow they did not part in scorn–
“Then what is life?” I cried. Fro… Of soul the poet cast that burning… And it should seem as though his p… For he died soon; and now his rest… Somewhere with the great spirit wh…
Ask me no more: the moon may draw… The cloud may stoop from heaven an… With fold to fold, of mountain or… But O too fond, when have I answe… Ask me no more.
Birds’ love and birds’ song Flying here and there, Birds’ songand birds’ love And you with gold for hair! Birds’ songand birds’ love
Our enemies have fall’n, have fall… The little seed they laugh’d at in… Has risen and cleft the soil, and… Of spanless girth, that lays on ev… A thousand arms and rushes to the…
Once more the Heavenly Power Makes all things new, And domes the red-plowed hills With loving blue; The blackbirds have their wills,
Thy voice is heard thro’ rolling d… That beat to battle where he stand… Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow,
The baby new to earth and sky, What time his tender palm is prest Against the circle of the breast, Has never thought that “this is I… But as he grows he gathers much,
Sad Hesper o’er the buried sun And ready, thou, to die with him, Thou watchest all things ever dim And dimmer, and a glory done: The team is loosen’d from the wain…
Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the… When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems as…