#EnglishWriters
Evenings in trains, When the little black twittering g… Along the brims of cuttings, Against the luminous sky, Interrupt with their hurrying rumo…
I had remarked—how sharply one obs… When life is disappearing round th… Of yet another corner, out of sigh… I had remarked when it was “good l… And “a good journey to you,” on he…
Many are the doors of the spirit t… Into the inmost shrine: And I count the gates of the temp… Since the god of the place is God… And these are the gates that God…
The eyes of the portraits on the w… Look at me, follow me, Stare incessantly: I take it their glance means nothi… —Clearly, oh clearly! Nothing at…
There is a country in my mind, Lovelier than a poet blind Could dream of, who had never know… This world of drought and dust and… In all its ugliness: a place
Once more the windless days are he… Quiet of autumn, when the year Halts and looks backward and draws… Before it plunges into death. Silver of mist and gossamers,
In the middle of countries, far fr… Are the little places one passes b… And never stops at; where the skie… Uninterrupted, and the level plain… Stretch green and yellow and green…
My close-walled soul has never kno… That innermost darkness, dazzling… Like the blind point, whence the v… In the core of the gazer’s chrysol… The mystic darkness that laps God…
Still life, still life ... the hig… Hard and sharp on the bottles: the… Stands firmly solid in the glasses… Smooth yellow ice, through which t… The lamp’s bright pencil of down-s…
Spring is past and over these many… Spring and summer. The leaves of… Yellowing afid all but dead on the… Nor is there any hope in me. I wa… Slowly homeward. Night is as empt…
I had been sitting alone with book… Till doubt was a black disease, When I heard the cheerful shout o… In the bare, prophetic trees. Bare trees, prophetic of new birth…
My green aquarium of phantom fish, Goggling in on me through the mist… My rotting leaves and fields spong… My few clear quiet autumn days—I… I could leave all, clearness and m…
Instants in the quiet, small sharp… Pierce my spirit with a thrust who… Baffles even the grasp of time. Oh that I might reflect them As swiftly, as keenly as they shin…
Darkness had stretched its colour, Deep blue across the pane: No cloud to make night duller, No moon with its tarnish stain; But only here and there a star,
There had been phantoms, pale-reme… Of this and this occasion, sisterl… In their resemblances, each effigy Crowned with the same bright hair… White rounded firmness, and each b…