#EnglishWriters
Time, we both know, will decay Yo… I’m scared of our divorce: I’ve s… Remember: when Le bon Dieu says t… Please, please, for His sake and… To my piteous Don’ts, but bugger…
He told us we were free to choose But, children as we were, we thoug… “Paternal Love will only use Force in the last resort On those too bumptious to repent.”
Carry her over the water, And set her down under the tree, Where the culvers white all days a… And the winds from every quarter, Sing agreeably, agreeably, agreeab…
Time can say nothing but I told y… Time only knows the price we have… If I could tell you, I would let… If we should weep when clowns put… If we should stumble when musician…
He looked in all His wisdom from… Down on that humble boy who kept t… And sent a dove; the dove returned… Youth liked the music, but soon fe… But He had planned such future fo…
Look, stranger, at this island now The leaping light for your delight… Stand stable here And silent be, That through the channels of the e…
You are the town and we are the cl… We are the guardians of the gate i… The Two. On your left and on your right In the day and in the night,
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colours wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks
For us like any other fugitive, Like the numberless flowers that c… And all the beasts that need not r… It is today in which we live. So many try to say Not Now,
The underground roads Are, as the dead prefer them, Always tortuous. . . . When he looked the cave in the eye…
Underneath the leaves of life, Green on the prodigious tree, In a trance of grief Stand the fallen man and wife: Far away the single stag
A living-room, the catholic area y… (Thou, rather) and I may enter without knocking, leave without a… each visitor with a style, a secular faith: he compares its d…
Again in conversations Speaking of fear And throwing off reserve The voice is nearer But no clearer
For what as easy For what thought small, For what is well Because between, To you simply
As the poets have mournfully sung, Death takes the innocent young, The rolling-in-money, The screamingly-funny, And those who are very well hung.