#EnglishWriters
Dear absurd child—too dear to my c… God made your soul for pleasure, n… It cleaves no way, but angled broa… Impinges with a slabby-bellied sou… Full upon life, and on the rind of…
I am getting on well with this ane… When suddenly I recall The many times I have told it of… And all the worked-up phrases, and… Of voice, well timed in the crisis…
Thought is an unseen net wherein o… Is taken and vainly struggles to b… Words, that should loose our spiri… New fetters on our hoped-for liber… And action bears us onward like a…
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,
Fine as the dust of plumy fountain… Across the lanterns of a revelling… The tiny leaves of April’s earlie… Powder the trees—so vaporously lig… They seem to float, billows of eme…
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
Evenings in trains, When the little black twittering g… Along the brims of cuttings, Against the luminous sky, Interrupt with their hurrying rumo…
I have run where festival was loud With drum and brass among the crow… Of panic revellers, whose cries Affront the quiet of the skies; Whose dancing lights contract the…
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…
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…
Sitting on the top of the 'bus, I bite my pipe and look at the sky… Over my shoulder the smoke streams… And my life with it. “Conservation of energy,” you say.
We who are lovers sit by the fire, Cradled warm 'twixt thought and wi… Sit and drowse like sleeping dogs In the equipoise of all desire, Sit and listen to the still
A million million spermatozoa All of them alive; Out of their cataclysm but one poo… Dare hope to survive. And among that billion minus one
Day after day, At spring’s return, I watch my flowers, how they burn Their lives away. The candle crocus
The stars are golden instants in t… Flawless expanse of night: the moo… The river sleeps, entranced, a smo… Seeming so motionless that I forg… The hollow booming bridges, where…