#EnglishWriters
Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and su… Of linen, go the chanting choriste… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…
I have opened the window to warm m… Where the sunlight soaks in the st… Is full of dreams, my love, the bo… In a wistful dream of Lorna Doone… The clink of the shunting engines…
My little love, my darling, You were a doorway to me; You let me out of the confines Into this strange countrie, Where people are crowded like this…
Yours is the sullen sorrow, The disgrace is also mine; Your love was intense and thorough… Mine was the love of a growing flo… For the sunshine.
I will give you all my keys, You shall be my châtelaine, You shall enter as you please, As you please shall go again. When I hear you jingling through
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff… No, not even sniff at her, his nos… Only he senses the vulnerable fold… That work beneath her while she sp…
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? Ah, you will understand;
She bade me follow to her garden w… The mellow sunlight stood as in a… Between the old grey walls; I did… To raise my face, I did not dare… Lest her bright eyes like sparrows…
When the wind blows her veil And uncovers her laughter I cease, I turn pale. When the wind blows her veil From the woes I bewail
You know what it is to be born alo… Baby tortoise! The first day to heave your feet l… Not yet awake, And remain lapsed on earth,
I saw the midlands Revolve through her hair; The fields of autumn Stretching bare, And sheep on the pasture
If you are a man, and believe in t… then say to yourself: we will ceas… about property and money and mecha… and open our consciousness to the… that we are now cut off from.
The little river twittering in the… The wan, wandering look of the pal… This is almost bliss. And everything shut up and gone to… All the troubles and anxieties and…
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk egg?
I listen to the stillness of you, My dear, among it all; I feel your silence touch my words… And take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge