#EnglishWriters
Here among long-discarded cassocks… Damp stools, and half-split open h… Here where the vicar never looks I nibble through old service books… Lean and alone I spend my days
In among the silver birches, Winding ways of tarmac wander And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Break. Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches
Cut down that timber! Bells, too… Pouring their music through the br… From moon-white church-towers down… Have pealed the centuries out with… Remove those cottages, a huddled t…
“Let us not speak, for the love we… Let us hold hands and look.” She such a very ordinary little wo… He such a thumping crook; But both, for a moment, little low…
Bird-watching colonels on the old… Down here at Dawlish where the sl… Low tide lifting, on a shingle sho… Long-sunk islands from the sea onc… Red cliffs rising where the wet sa…
This is the time of day when we in… Think “one more surge of the pain… When he who struggles for breath c… This is the time of day which is w… A haze of thunder hangs on the hos…
At the end of a long-walled garden… A brick path led to a mulberry– sc… I lay under blackening branches wh… Sheltering ruby fruit globes from… Apple and plum espaliers basked up…
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,
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…
Isn’t she lovely, “the Mistress”? With her wide-apart grey-green eye… The droop of her lips and, when sh… Her glance of amused surprise? How nonchalantly she wears her clo…
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…
Encase your legs in nylons, Bestride your hills with pylons O age without a soul; Away with gentle willows And all the elmy billows
Cocooned in Time, at this inhuman… The packaged food tastes neutrally… We never seem to catch the running… But travel on in everlasting night With all the chic accoutrements of…
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
Kind o’er the kinderbank leans my… White o’er the playpen the sheen o… Fresh from the bathroom and soft i… Soap scented fingers I long to ca… Were you a prefect and head of you…