IN THE MILE END ROAD ?by Amy Levy How like her! But ’tis she herself, Comes up the crowded street, How little did I think, the morn, My only love to meet! Who else that motion and that mien? Whose else that airy tread? For one strange moment I forgot My only love was dead.
The Tempest We were crowded in the cabin, Not a soul would dare to sleep, It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep. ‘Tis a fearful thing in winter To be shattered in the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, “Cut away the mast!” So we shuddered there […]
Thomas Hood (1799-1845)
John Donne (1572-1631)
Robert Browning (1812-1889)
Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618)