Continuing to live—that is, repeat
A habit formed to get necessaries—
Is nearly always losing, or going
It varies.
This loss of interest, hair, and e

Suspended lion face
Spilling at the centre
Of an unfurnished sky
How still you stand,
And how unaided

The cloakroom pegs are empty now,
And locked the classroom door,
The hollow desks are lined with du
And slow across the floor
A sunbeam creeps between the chair

They fuck you up, your mum and dad
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their t

Next year we are to bring all the
For lack of money, and it is all r
Places they guarded, or kept order
We want the money for ourselves at
Instead of working. And this is a

Home is so sad. It stays as it wa
Shaped in the comfort of the last
As if to win them back. Instead,
Of anyone to please, it withers so
Having no heart to put aside the t

New eyes each year
Find old books here,
And new books, too,
Old eyes renew;
So youth and age

Higher than the handsomest hotel
The lucent comb shows up for miles
All round it close—ribbed streets
Like a great sigh out of the last
The porters are scruffy; what keep

The eye can hardly pick them out
From the cold shade they shelter i
Till wind distresses tail and main
Then one crops grass, and moves ab
—The other seeming to look on—