#EnglishWriters
To step over the low wall that div… Road from concrete walk above the… Brings sharply back something know… The miniature gaiety of seasides. Everything crowds under the low ho…
This empty street, this sky to bla… This air, a little indistinct with… Like a reflection, constitute the… A time traditionally soured, A time unrecommended by event.
Once I am sure there’s nothing go… I step inside, letting the door th… Another church: matting, seats, an… And little books; sprawlings of fl… For Sunday, brownish now; some br…
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…
I have started to say “A quarter of a century” Or “thirty years back” About my own life. It makes me breathless
Love, we must part now: do not let… Calamitious and bitter. In the pa… There has been too much moonlight… Let us have done with it: for now… Never has sun more boldly paced th…
Walking around in the park Should feel better than work: The lake, the sunshine, The grass to lie on, Blurred playground noises
Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro
That Whitsun, I was late getting… Not till about One—twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three—quarters—empty train… All windows down, all cushions hot…
In frames as large as rooms that f… And block the ends of streets with… Screen graves with custard, cover… Of motor—oil and cuts of salmon, s… Perpetually these sharply—pictured…
At last you yielded up the album,… Once open, sent me distracted. Al… Matt and glossy on the thick black… Too much confectionery, too rich: I choke on such nutritious images.
A stationary sense... as, I suppo… I shall have, till my single body… Inaccurate, tired; Then I shall start to feel the ba… Take over, sickening and masterful…
Once I believed in you, And then you came, Unquestionably new, as fame Had said you were. But that was l… You launched no argument,
Side by side, their faces blurred, The earl and countess lie in stone… Their proper habits vaguely shown As jointed armour, stiffened pleat… And that faint hint of the absurd—
This is the first thing I have understood: Time is the echo of an axe Within a wood.