#EnglishWriters
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…
Out of the darkness, fretted somet… Jets of sparks in fountains of blu… To sight, revealing a secret, numb… Sometimes the darkness trapped wit… Runs into speed like a dream, the…
It ought to be lovely to be old to be full of the peace that comes… and wrinkled ripe fulfilment. The wrinkled smile of completeness… lived undaunted and unsoured with…
If I could have put you in my hea… If but I could have wrapped you i… How glad I should have been! And now the chart Of memory unrolls again to me
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,
The glimmer of the limes, sun-heav… Goes trembling past me up the Col… Below, the lawn, in soft blue shad… The daisy-froth quiescent, softly… Beyond the leaves that overhang th…
Slowly the moon is rising out of t… Divesting herself of her golden sh… Emerging white and exquisite; and… See in the sky before me, a woman… I loved, but there she goes and he…
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…
Butterfly, the wind blows sea—ward… strong beyond the garden—wall! Butterfly, why do you settle on my shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe, Lifting your veined wings, lifting…
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping in the yellow lig… Which makes its way through the cu… At my heart to—night? Ah, only the leaves! So leave me…
Do you remember How night after night swept level… Overhead, at home, and had not one… Nor one narrow gate for the moon t… Forth to her field of November.
The dawn was apple-green, The sky was green wine held up in… The moon was a golden petal betwee… She opened her eyes, and green They shone, clear like flowers und…
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…
The moon is broken in twain, and h… Before me lies on the still, pale… The other half of the broken coin… Is buried away in the dark, where… They buried her half in the grave…
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