#EnglishWriters
So an age ended, and its last deli… In bed, grown idle and unhappy; th… The sudden shadow of a giant’s eno… Would fall no more at dusk across… They slept in peace: in marshes he…
Time will say nothing but I told… Time only knows the price we have… If I could tell you I would let y… If we should weep when clowns put… If we should stumble when musician…
Ours yet not ours, being set apart As a shrine to friendship, Empty and silent most of the year, This room awaits from you What you alone, as visitor, can br…
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colors wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks
A living-room, the catholic area y… (Thou, rather) and I may enter without knocking, leave without a… each visitor with a style, a secular faith: he compares its d…
At Dirty Dick’s and Sloppy Joe’s We drank our liquor straight, Some went upstairs with Margery, And some, alas, with Kate; And two by two like cat and mouse
Warm are the still and lucky miles… White shores of longing stretch aw… A light of recognition fills The whole great day, and bright The tiny world of lovers’ arms.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the t… Prevent the dog from barking with… Silence the pianos and with muffle… Bring out the coffin, let the mour… Let aeroplanes circle moaning over…
All are limitory, but each has her… nuance of damage. The elite can d… are ambulant with a single stick,… to read a book all through, or pla… easy sonatas. (Yet, perhaps their…
Each lover has some theory of his… About the difference between the a… Of being with his love, and being… Why what, when dreaming, is dear f… That really stirs the senses, when…
The piers are pummelled by the wav… In a lonely field the rain Lashes an abandoned train; Outlaws fill the mountain caves. Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Nobody I know would like to be bu… with a silver cocktail-shaker, a transistor radio and a strangled daily help, or keep his word becau… of a great-great-grandmother who g…
It’s no use raising a shout. No, Honey, you can cut that right… I don’t want any more hugs; Make me some fresh tea, fetch me s… Here am I, here are you:But what…
Lady, weeping at the crossroads, Would you meet your love In the twilight with his greyhound… And the hawk on his glove? Bribe the birds then on the branch…
Our hunting fathers told the story Of the sadness of the creatures, Pitied the limits and the lack Set in their finished features; Saw in the lion’s intolerant look,