#English
The rain of a night and a day and… Stops at the light Of this pale choked day. The peer… Sees what has been done. The road under the trees has a bor…
Gone, gone again, May, June, July, And August gone, Again gone by, Not memorable
Often and often it came back again To mind, the day I passed the hor… To a new country, the path I had… By half-gaps that were stiles once… The pack of scarlet clouds running…
The downs will lose the sun, white… Lose the bees’ hum; But head and bottle tilted back in… Will never part Till I am cold as midnight and al…
What matter makes my spade for tea… Letting down two clay pipes into t… The one I smoked, the other a sol… Of Blenheim, Ramillies, and Malp… Perhaps. The dead man’s immortali…
TALL nettles cover up, as they h… These many springs, the rusty harr… Long worn out, and the roller made… Only the elm butt tops the nettles… This corner of the farmyard I lik…
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 -
She is most fair, And when they see her pass The poets’ ladies Look no more in the glass But after her.
RUNNING along a bank, a parapet That saves from the precipitous wo… The level road, there is a path.… Children for looking down the long… Between the legs of beech and yew,…
There was a weasel lived in the su… With all his family, Till a keeper shot him with his gu… And hung him up on a tree, Where he swings in the wind and ra…
OUT of the wood of thoughts that… To be cut down by the sharp ax of… Out of the night, two cocks togeth… Cleaving the darkness with a silve… And brought before my eyes twin tr…
IT was a perfect day For sowing; just As sweet and dry was the ground As tobacco-dust. I tasted deep the hour
‘Twill take some getting.’ ‘Sir,… The old man stared up at the mistl… That hung too high in the poplar’s… Of any climber, though not for kis… Then he went on against the north-…
Thinking of her had saddened me at… Until I saw the sun on the celand… Redoubled, and she stood up like a… A living thing, not what before I… The shadow I was growing to love…
At hawthorn-time in Wiltshire tra… In search of something chance woul… An old man’s face, by life and wea… And coloured, - rough, brown, swee… A land face, sea-blue-eyed, - hung…