#EnglishWriters
Far out of bounds he’d figured-in… Of West-End traffic pitching to h… But if you’d see him in his proper… Making the browns for bub and grub… Go East among the merchants and t…
Thin-legged, thin-chested, slight… Neat-footed and weak-fingered: in… Lean, large-boned, curved of beak,… Bold-lipped, rich-tinted, mutable… The brown eyes radiant with vivaci…
It came with the threat of a wanin… And the wail of an ebbing tide, But many a woman has lived for les… And many a man has died; For life upon life took hold and p…
Kate-a-Whimsies, John-a-Dream Still debating, still delay, And the world’s a ghost that gleam… Wavers– vanishes away! We must live while live we can;
A black and glassy float, opaque a… The loch, at furthest ebb supine i… Reversing, mirrored in its luminou… The calm grey skies; the solemn sp… Heather, and corn, and wisps of lo…
His beat lies knee—high through a… A dust of terror and torture, grie… Ghosts that are England’s wonder,… Throng where he walks, an antic of… A sense of long immedicable tears
THE day’s high work is over and d… And these no more will need the su… Blow, you bugles of England, blow… These are gone where all must go, Mightily gone from the field they…
The gods are dead? Perhaps they… Living at least in Lempriere unde… The wise, the fair, the awful, the… Are one and all. I like to thi… In some still land of lilacs and t…
O gather me the rose, the rose, While yet in flower we find it, For summer smiles, but summer goes… And winter waits behind it. For with the dream foregone, foreg…
Though, if you ask her name, she s… Being plain Elizabeth, e’en let i… And own that, if her aspirates tak… She ever makes a point, in washing… Handling the engine, turning taps…
If it should come to be, This proof of you and me, This type and sign Of hours that smiled and shone, And yet seemed dead and gone
Chiming a dream by the way With ocean’s rapture and roar, I met a maiden to-day Walking alone on the shore: Walking in maiden wise,
The Artist muses at his ease, Contented that his work is done, And smiling-smiling!-as he sees His crowd collecting, one by one. Alas! his travail’s but begun!
From the brake the Nightingale Sings exulting to the Rose; Though he sees her waxing pale In her passionate repose, While she triumphs waxing frail,
These, to you now, O, more than e… Now that the Ancient Enemy Has passed, and we, we two that ar… A piece of perfect Life Turn to so ravishing a shape of D…