#EnglishWriters
Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune… Let them pierce, keenly, subtly sh… The slow blue rumour of the hill; Let the grass cry with an anguish… And the great sky be mute.
Day after day, At spring’s return, I watch my flowers, how they burn Their lives away. The candle crocus
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
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…
All fly—yet who is misanthrope?— The actual men and things that pas… Jostling, to wither as the grass So soon: and (be it heaven’s hope, Or poetry’s kaleidoscope,
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…
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…
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…
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…
When the child’s forehead, full of… Cries out for sleep and its pale h… His two big sisters come unto his… Having long fingers, tipped with s… They set him at a casement, open w…
Noon with a depth of shadow beneat… Shakes in the heat, quivers to the… Half shaded, half sunlit, a great… Glistens purple and golden: the fl… Cool in their panniers of snow: si…
Oh wind-swept towers, Oh endlessly blossoming trees, White clouds and lucid eyes, And pools in the rocks whose unplu… With who knows what of subtlety
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…
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…
A petal drifted loose From a great magnolia bloom, Your face hung in the gloom, Floating, white and close. We seemed alone: but another