#EnglishWriters
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
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,
Yours is the shame and sorrow, But the disgrace is mine; Your love was dark and thorough, Mine was the love of the sun for a… He creates with his shine.
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…
Close your eyes, my love, let me m… They have taught you to see Only a mean arithmetic on the face… A cunning algebra in the faces of… And God like geometry
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 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,…
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…
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…
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,
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…
It is conceit that kills us and makes us cowards instead of go… Under the great Command: Know thy… we have become fatally self—consci… Now we have to admit we can’t know…
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.
A snake came to my water—trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjam… To drink there. In the deep, strange—scented shade… I came down the steps with my pitc…