#EnglishWriters
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…
Through snowy woods and shady We went to play a tune To the lonely manor-lady By the light of the Christmas moo… We violed till, upward glancing
Somewhere afield here something li… In Earth’s oblivious eyeless trus… That moved a poet to prophecies - A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust The dust of the lark that Shelley…
"The quay recedes. Hurrah! Ahead… It’s true I’ve been accustomed no… And joints get rusty, and one’s li… More fit to rest than roam. "But I can stand as yet fair stre…
The day is turning ghost, And scuttles from the kalendar in… To join the anonymous host Of those that throng oblivion; ced… To one of like degree.
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.
‘A woman never agreed to it!’ said… 'That one thing she’d refuse to do… No woman ever will make herself lo… I did not answer; but I thought,… It took a rare one, true, to do it…
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 was not he-the man Who used to pilgrim to your gate, At whose smart step you grew elate… And rosed, as maidens can, For a brief span.
Clouds spout upon her Their waters amain In ruthless disdain,— Her who but lately Had shivered with pain
In the third-class seat sat the jo… And the roof-lamp’s oily flame Played down on his listless form a… Bewrapt past knowing to what he wa… Or whence he came.
Here is the ancient floor, Footworn and hollowed and thin, Here was the former door Where the dead feet walked in. She sat here in her chair,
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…
Perhaps, long hence, when I have… Some other’s feature, accent, thou… Will carry you back to what I use… And bring some memory of your love… Then you may pause awhile and thin…
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