#EnglishWriters
While I have been fumbling over b… And thinking about God and the De… Other young men have been battling… And others have been kissing the b… They have brazen faces like batter…
A petal drifted loose From a great magnolia bloom, Your face hung in the gloom, Floating, white and close. We seemed alone: but another
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…
Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze All imperturbable do not Even make pretences to regard The justing absence of her stays, Where many a Tyrian gallipot
Books and a coloured skein of thou… And magic words lay ripening in my… Till their much-whispered music tu… Whose subtlest power was all in my… These things were mine, and they 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…
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.
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…
Old ghosts that death forgot to fe… Across the Lethe of the years - These are my friends, and at their… I weep and with their mirth am mer… On a high tower, whose battlements
At your mouth, white and milk-warm… I taste a strange apocalypse: Your subtle taper finger-tips Weave me new heavens, yet, methink… I know the wiles and each iynx
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…
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
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
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,
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…