The White Ship Henry I. Of England.-25t (Dante Gabriel Rossetti Poems)
By none but me can the tale be told,The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.(Lands are swayed by a King on ...
By none but me can the tale be told,The butcher of Rouen, poor Berold.(Lands are swayed by a King on ...
What thing unto mine earWouldst thou convey,-what secret thing,O wandering water ever whispering?Surely thy speech shall be of her.Thou water, ...
Master of the murmuring courtsWhere the shapes of sleep convene!-Lo! my spirit here exhortsAll the powers of thy demesneFor their ...
Let no man ask thee of anything Not yearborn between Spring and Spring. More of all worlds than he can ...
II sat with Love upon a woodside well,Leaning across the water, I and he;Nor ever did he speak nor looked ...
I. HERSELFTo be a sweetness more desired than Spring;A bodily beauty more acceptableThan the wild rose-tree's arch that crowns the ...
IBeholding youth and hope in mockery caughtFrom life; and mocking pulses that remainWhen the soul's death of bodily death is ...
DID she in summer write it, or in spring, Or with this wail of autumn ...
ALONG the grass sweet airs are blownOur way this day in Spring.Of all the songs that we have knownNow which ...
On this sweet bank your head thrice sweet and dearI lay, and spread your hair on either side,And see the ...
Once more the changed year's turning wheel returns:And as a girl sails balanced in the wind,And now before and now ...
Bless love and hope. Full many a withered yearWhirled past us, eddying to its chill doomsday;And clasped together where the ...
The cuckoo-throb, the heartbeat of the Spring;The rosebud's blush that leaves it as it growsInto the full-eyed fair unblushing rose;The ...
Even as the moon grows queenlier in mid-spaceWhen the sky darkens, and her cloud-rapt carThrills with intenser radiance from afar,-So ...
Was that the landmark? What,-the foolish wellWhose wave, low down, I did not stoop to drink,But sat and flung the ...
Beauty like hers is genius. Not the callOf Homer's or of Dante's heart sublime,-Not Michael's hand furrowing the zones of ...
By what word's power, the key of paths untrod,Shall I the difficult deeps of Love explore,Till parted waves of Song ...
When do I see thee most, beloved one?When in the light the spirits of mine eyesBefore thy face, their altar, ...
How should I your true love knowFrom another one?"By his cockle-hat and staffAnd his sandal-shoon.""And what signs have told you ...
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