#EnglishWriters
The dawn was apple-green, The sky was green wine held up in… The moon was a golden petal betwee… She opened her eyes, and green They shone, clear like flowers und…
Always, sweetheart, Carry into your room the blossomin… Almond and apple and pear diffuse… Soon strews itself on the floor; a… Fresh quivering; keep the sunny—sw…
The train in running across the we… So even, it beats like silence, an… Embrace of darkness lie around, an… And littered lettering of leaves a… The open book of landscape no more…
The shorn moon trembling indistinc… Frail as a scar upon the pale blue… Draws towards the downward slope:… Worn her down to the quick, so she… Along her foot—searched way withou…
If I could have put you in my hea… If but I could have wrapped you i… How glad I should have been! And now the chart Of memory unrolls again to me
THE houses fade in a melt of mist Blotching the thick, soiled air With reddish places that still res… The Night’s slow care. The hopeless, wintry twilight fade…
When she rises in the morning I linger to watch her; She spreads the bath—cloth underne… And the sunbeams catch her Glistening white on the shoulders,
All people dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the du… Wake in the morning to find that i… But the dreamers of the day are da… For they dream their dreams with o…
See the stars, love, In the water much clearer and brig… Than those above us, and whiter, Like nenuphars. Star—shadows shine, love,
Since I lost you I am silence—hau… Sounds wave their little wings A moment, then in weariness settle On the flood that soundless swings… Whether the people in the street
Not every man has gentians in his… in Soft September, at slow, Sad… Bavarian gentians, big and dark, o… darkening the daytime torchlike wi… gloom,
When you went, how was it you carr… My missal book of fine, flamboyant… My book of turrets and of red-thor… And skies of gold, and ladies in b… Now underneath a blue-grey twiligh…
How many times, like lotus lilies… Upon the surface of a river, there Have risen floating on my blood th… Soft glimmers of my hope escaped f… So I am clothed all over with the…
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk egg?
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? Ah, you will understand;