#EnglishWriters
The glory of the beauty of the mor… The cuckoo crying over the untouch… The blackbird that has found it, a… That tempts me on to something swe… White clouds ranged even and fair…
But these things also are Spring’… On banks by the roadside the grass Long-dead that is greyer now Than all the Winter it was; The shell of a little snail bleach…
The two men in the road were taken… The lovers came out shading their… And never was white so white, or b… As her cheeks and hair. ‘There ar… A man might turn into a wood for,…
The Combe was ever dark, ancient… Its mouth is stopped with brambles… And no one scrambles over the slid… By beech and yew and perishing jun… Down the half precipices of its si…
he summer nests uncovered by autum… Some torn, others dislodged, all d… Everyone sees them: low or high in… Or hedge, or single bush, they han… Since there’s no need of eyes to s…
The flowers left thick at nightfal… This Eastertide call into mind th… Now far from home, who, with their… Have gathered them and will do nev…
IF I should ever by chance grow r… I’ll buy Codham, Cockridden, and… Roses, Pyrgo, and Lapwater, And let them all to my eldest daug… The rent I shall ask of her will…
Out in the sun the goldfinch flits Along the thistle-tops, flits and… Above the hollow wood Where birds swim like fish - Fish that laugh and shriek -
Harry, you know at night The larks in Castle Alley Sing from the attic’s height As if the electric light Were the true sun above a summer v…
Early one morning in May I set ou… And nobody I knew was about. I’m bound away for ever, Away somewhere, away for ever. There was no wind to trouble the w…
I have come a long way to-day: On a strange bridge alone, Remembering friends, old friends, I rest, without smile or moan, As they remember me without smile…
It was upon a July evening. At a stile I stood, looking along… Over the country by a second Spri… Drenched perfect green again. ‘Th… Will be a fine one.’ So the stran…
I never saw that land before, And now can never see it again; Yet, as if by acquaintance hoar Endeared, by gladness and by pain, Great was the affection that I bo…
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but t… On this bleak hut, and solitude, a… Remembering again that I shall di… And neither hear the rain nor give… For washing me cleaner than I hav…
That’s the cuckoo, you say. I can… When last I heard it I cannot rec… Too well the year when first I fa… It was drowned by my man groaning… Ten times with an angry voice he s…