#EnglishWriters
There dwells a mighty pair - Slow, statuesque, intense - Amid the vague Immense: None can their chronicle declare, Nor why they be, nor whence.,h…
When you shall see me in the toils… My lauded beauties carried off fro… My eyes no longer stars as in thei… My name forgot of Maiden Fair and… When, in your being, heart concede…
“ALIVE?”—And I leapt in my wond… Was faint of my joyance, And grasses and grove shone in gar… Of glory to me. “She lives, in a plenteous well-be…
I saw a slowly-stepping train— Lined on the brows, scoop-eyed and… Following in files across a twilit… A strange and mystic form the fore… II
The thick lids of Night closed up… Alone at the Bill Of the Isle by the Race - Many—caverned, bald, wrinkled of f… And with darkness and silence the…
WHEN Lawyers strive to heal a br… And Parsons practise what they pr… Then Little Boney he’ll pounce do… And march his men on London town! Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lorum,
I LONGED to love a full-boughed… And be as high as he: I stretched an arm within his reac… And signalled unity. But with his drip he forced a brea…
‘If ever I walk to church to wed, As other maidens use, And face the gathered eyes,’ she s… 'I’ll go in satin shoes!' She was as fair as early day
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:
They sing their dearest songs— He, she, all of them—yea, Treble and tenor and bass, And one to play; With the candles mooning each face…
Who were the twain that trod this… So many times together Hither and back, In spells of certain and uncertain… Commonplace in conduct they
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
WHEN you paced forth, to wait ma… A dream of other offspring held my… Compounded of us twain as Love de… Rare forms, that corporate now wil… Should I, too, wed as slave to Mo…
In Memory of one of the Writer’s… with Napoleon In a ferny byway Near the great South-Wessex High… A homestead raised its breakfast-s…
Last year I called this world of… The darkest thinkable, and questio… If my own land could heave its pul… So charged it seemed with circumst… The tragedy of things.