Alfred Austin

  • She wanders in the April woods,
      That glisten with the fallen shower;
    She leans her face against the buds,
      She stops, she stoops, she plucks a flower.
      She feels the ferment of the hour:
    She broodeth when the ringdove broods;
      The sun and...

  • Soul, heart, and body, we thus singly name,
    Are not in love divisible and distinct,
    But each with each inseparably link'd.
    One is not honour, and the other shame,
    But burn as closely fused as fuel, heat, and flame.

    They do not love who give the body and keep