#EnglishWriters
I said to Love, “It is not now as in old days When men adored thee and thy ways All else above; Named thee the Boy, the Bright, t…
If seasons all were summers, And leaves would never fall, And hopping casement-comers Were foodless not at all, And fragile folk might be here
Since Reverend Doctors now declar… That clerks and people must prepar… To doubt if Adam ever were; To hold the flood a local scare; To argue, though the stolid stare,
Wintertime nighs; But my bereavement—pain It cannot bring again: Twice no one dies. Flower—petals flee;
They hail me as one living, But don’t they know That I have died of late years, Untombed although? I am but a shape that stands here,
The ten hours’ light is abating, And a late bird flies across, Where the pines, like waltzers wai… Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noon…
At nine in the morning there passe… At ten there passed me by the sea, At twelve a town of smoke and smir… At two a forest of oak and birch, And then, on a platform, she:
Plunging and labouring on in a tid… Dolorous and dear, Forward I pushed my way as amid w… Stretching around, Through whose eddies there glimmer…
AS evening shaped I found me on a… Which sight could scarce sustain: The black lean land, of featureles… Was like a tract in pain. “This scene, like my own life,” I…
It bends far over Yell’ham Plain, And we, from Yell’ham Height, Stand and regard its fiery train, So soon to swim from sight. It will return long years hence, w…
The moving sun-shapes on the spray… The sparkles where the brook was f… Pink faces, plightings, moonlit M… These were the things we wished wo… But they were going.
They throw in Drummer Hodge, to r… Uncoffined—just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around: And foreign constellations west
I traversed a dominion Whose spokesmen spake out strong Their purpose and opinion Through pulpit, press, and song. I scarce had means to note there
That night your great guns, unawar… Shook all our coffins as we lay, And broke the chancel window—squar… We thought it was the Judgment—da… And sat upright. While drearisome
How much shall I love her? For life, or not long? “Not long.” Alas! When forget her? In years, or by June?