#English Modern
Even iron can put forth, Even iron. This is the iron age, But let us take heart Seeing iron break and bud,
Love has crept out of her sealéd h… As a field-bee, black and amber, Breaks from the winter-cell, to cl… Up the warm grass where the sunbea… Mischief has come in her dawning e…
Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting… I despise that self—important game… Thought is the welling up of unkno… Thought is the testing of statemen…
Since I lost you I am silence—hau… Sounds wave their little wings A moment, then in weariness settle On the flood that soundless swings… Whether the people in the street
Too far away, oh love, I know, To save me from this haunted road, Whose lofty roses break and blow On a night—sky bent with a load Of lights: each solitary rose,
We are a liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a l… whereas letters are fixed, and we live by the letter of truth… The love I feel for my friend, th…
Since I lost you, my darling, the… And I am of it, the small sharp s… The white moon going among them li… And the sound of her gently rustli… And I am willing to come to you n…
There are only two things now, The great black night scooped out And this fireglow. This fireglow, the core, And we the two ripe pips
Ah, my darling, when over the purp… The shrouded mother of a new idea,… Cry out and fend her off, as she s… Wounding themselves against her, d…
We’ve made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woma… That moment I begin to hate her. The moment I even say to a woman:…
Somewhere the long mellow note of… Quickens the unclasping hands of h… Somewhere the wind—flowers fling t… Stirred by an impetuous wind. Som… All be sweet with white and blue v…
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…
If you make a revolution, make it… don’t make it in ghastly seriousne… don’t do it in deadly earnest, do it for fun. Don’t do it because you hate peopl…
The quick sparks on the gorse bush… Little jets of sunlight—texture im… Above them, exultant, the peewits… They are lords of the desolate was… Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth,…
How beastly the bourgeois is especially the male of the species… Presentable, eminently presentable… shall I make you a present of him? Isn’t he handsome? Isn’t he healt…