#EnglishWriters
‘I mean to build a hall anon, And shape two turrets there, And a broad newelled stair, And a cool well for crystal water; Yes; I will build a hall anon,
THERE were two youths of equal a… Wit, station, strength, and parent… They studied at the self-same scho… And shaped their thoughts by commo… One pondered on the life of man,
In a Wood Pale beech and pine-tree blue, Set in one clay, Bough to bough cannot you Bide out your day?
I heard a small sad sound, And stood awhile among the tombs a… “Wherefore, old friends,” said I,… Now, screened from life’s unrest?” II
In years defaced and lost, Two sat here, transport-tossed, Lit by a living love The wilted world knew nothing of: Scared momently
I MARKED her ruined hues, Her custom-straitened views, And asked, “Can there indwell My Amabel?” I looked upon her gown,
They are not those who used to fee… When we were young—they cannot be… These shapes that now bereave and… They are not those who used to fee… For would they not fair terms conc…
If but some vengeful god would cal… From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou… Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy… That thy love’s loss is my hate’s… Then would I bear it, clench myse…
A bird sings the selfsame song, With never a fault in its flow, That we listened to here those lon… Long years ago. A pleasing marvel is how
Much wonder I—here long low—laid— That this dead wall should be Betwixt the Maker and the made, Between Thyself and me! For, say one puts a child to nurse…
'Ah Madam; you’ve indeed come bac… 'Twas sad-your husband’s so swift… And you away! You shouldn’t have… It hastened his last breath.' 'Dame, I am not the lady you thin…
PART I ‘I have a Love I love too well Where Dunkery frowns on Exon Moo… I have a Love I love too well, To whom, ere she was mine,
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…
Yes; your up—dated modern page— All flower—fresh, as it appears— Can claim a time-tried lineage, That reaches backward fifty years (Which, if but short for sleepy sq…
This is the weather the cuckoo lik… And so do I; When showers betumble the chestnut… And nestlings fly; And the little brown nightingale b…