#EnglishWriters
Take any station, pavement, circus… Where men their styles of print ma… And there—ten times more on it tha… There you shall find him swathed i… Nothing can stay the placing of hi…
Life in her creaking shoes Goes, and more formal grows, A round of calls and cues: Love blows as the wind blows. Blows! . . . in the quiet close
Where are the passions they essaye… And where the tears they made to f… Where the wild humours they portra… For laughing worlds to see and kno… Othello’s wrath and Juliet’s woe?
Far out of bounds he’d figured-in… Of West-End traffic pitching to h… But if you’d see him in his proper… Making the browns for bub and grub… Go East among the merchants and t…
He’s called The General from the… And dash with which he sneaks a bi… And all its fares; challenged, or… Back-answers of the newest he’ll e… He reins his horses with an air; h…
I am the Reaper. All things with heedful hook Silent I gather. Pale roses touched with the spring… Tall corn in summer,
Joy of the Milliner, Envy of the… Star of the Parks, jack-booted, s… He sits between his holsters, soli… Nor, as it seems, though Westmins… With the great globe, in earthquak…
Above the Crags that fade and glo… Starts the bare knee of Arthur’s… Ridged high against the evening bl… The Old Town rises, street on str… With lamps bejewelled, straight ah…
‘Talk of pluck!’ pursued the Sail… Set at euchre on his elbow, ‘I was on the wharf at Charleston… Just ashore from off the runner. ’It was grey and dirty weather,
There’s never a delicate nurseling… But our huge London hails it, and… To wear it on her breast or at her… Her days to colour and make sweet… Crocus and daffodil and violet,
If it should come to be, This proof of you and me, This type and sign Of hours that smiled and shone, And yet seemed dead and gone
Beside the idle summer sea, And in the vacant summer days, Light Love came fluting down the… Where you were loitering with me. Who have not welcomed even as we,
Exceeding tall, but built so well… Half-disappears in flow of chest a… Moustache and whisker trooper-like… Frank-faced, frank-eyed, frank-hea… And always punctual-morning, noon,…
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pol… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance