#EnglishWriters
A big bud of moon hangs out of the… Star—spiders spinning their thread Hang high suspended, withouten res… Watching us overhead. Come then under the trees, where t…
DARKNESS comes out of the eart… And swallows dip into the pallor o… From the hay comes the clamour of… Wanes the old palimpsest. The night-stock oozes scent,
The quick sparks on the gorse—bush… Little jets of sunlight texture im… Above them, exultant, the peewits… They have triumphed again o’er the… Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth,…
The Cross, the Cross Goes deeper in than we know, Deeper into life; Right into the marrow And through the bone.
Oh the green glimmer of apples in… Lamps in a wash of rain! Oh the wet walk of my brown hen th… Oh tears on the window pane! Nothing now will ripen the bright…
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…
My world is a painted fresco, wher… Of old, ineffectual lives linger b… An endless tapestry the past has w… The halls of my life, compelling m… The surface of dreams is broken,
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…
Tell me a word that you’ve often heard, yet it makes you squint when you see it in print! Tell me a thing
Always, sweetheart, Carry into your room the blossomin… Almond and apple and pear diffuse… Soon strews itself on the floor; a… Fresh quivering; keep the sunny—sw…
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping the golden light Which weaves its way through the c… To my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…
The profoundest of all sensualitie… is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual exper… is the sense of justice.
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…
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk egg?
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