#English #XXCentury
Golden haired and golden hearted I would ever have you be, As you were when last we parted Smiling slow and sad at me. Oh! the fighting down of passion!
Come, friendly bombs, and fall on… It isn’t fit for humans now, There isn’t grass to graze a cow Swarm over, Death! Come, bombs, and blow to smitheree…
How did the Devil come? When firs… These Norfolk lanes recall lost i… The years fall off and find me wal… Dragging a stick along the wooden… Down this same path, where, forty…
How straight it flew, how long it… It clear’d the rutty track And soaring, disappeared from view Beyond the bunker’s back - A glorious, sailing, bounding driv…
Across the wet November night The church is bright with candleli… And waiting Evensong. A single bell with plaintive strok… Pleads louder than the stirring oa…
Up the ash tree climbs the ivy, Up the ivy climbs the sun, With a twenty-thousand pattering, Has a valley breeze begun, Feathery ash, neglected elder,
Let me take this other glove off As the vox humana swells, And the beauteous fields of Eden Bask beneath the Abbey bells. Here, where England’s statesmen l…
In uniform behold me stand, The lovely lift at my command. I press the button: Pop, And down I go below the town; The walls rise up as I go down
We used to picnic where the thrift Grew deep and tufted to the edge; We saw the yellow foam flakes drif… In trembling sponges on the ledge Below us, till the wind would lift
The bells of waiting Advent ring, The Tortoise stove is lit again And lamp-oil light across the nigh… Has caught the streaks of winter r… In many a stained-glass window she…
Gaily into Ruislip Gardens Runs the red electric train, With a thousand Ta’s and Pardon’s Daintily alights Elaine; Hurries down the concrete station
The sleepy sound of a tea-time tid… Slaps at the rocks the sun has dri… Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift Round low peninsulas pink with thr… The water, enlarging shells and sa…
Hark, I hear the bells of Westgat… I will tell you what they sigh, Where those minarets and steeples Prick the open Thanet sky. Happy bells of eighteen-ninety,
The sea runs back against itself With scarcely time for breaking wa… To cannonade a slatey shelf And thunder under in a cave. Before the next can fully burst
With one consuming roar along the… The long wave claws and rakes the… To where its backwash and the next… A mounting arch of water weedy-bro… Against the tide the off-shore bre…
