#EnglishWriters
The feelings I don’t have I don’t… The feeling I don’t have, I won’t… The feelings you say you have, you… The feelings you would like us bot… The feelings people ought to have,…
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic—looking, as if d… Though what she does, except lay f… And put up with her husband,
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead… without ever having felt sorry for…
The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun… The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black… Sweep past the window again. Along the vacant road, a red
SAD as he sits on the white sea-s… And the suave sea chuckles, and tu… And the moon significant smiles at… He sits like a shade by the flood… While I dance a tarantella on the…
The little pansies by the road hav… Away their purple faces and their… And evening has taken all the bees… And all the scent is shed away by… Against the hard and pale blue eve…
Reject me not if I should say to… I do forget the sounding of your v… I do forget your eyes that searchi… The mists perceive our marriage, a… Yet, when the apple—blossom opens…
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,
All people dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the du… Wake in the morning to find that i… But the dreamers of the day are da… For they dream their dreams with o…
Round clouds roll in the arms of t… The round earth rolls in a clasp o… And see, where the budding hazels… The wild anemones lie In undulating shivers beneath the…
I have fetched the tears up out of… Scooped them up with small, iron w… Dripping over the runnels. The harsh, cold wind of my words d… I watched the tears on the guilty…
I felt the lurch and halt of her h… Next my breast, where my own heart… And I laughed to feel it plunge a… And strange in my blood-swept ears… Of the words I kept repeating,
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
As we live, we are transmitters of… And when we fail to transmit life,… That is part of the mystery of sex… Sexless people transmit nothing. And if, as we work, we can transmi…
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,…