#EnglishWriters
When the autumn roses Are heavy with dew, Before the mist discloses The leaf’s brown hue, You would, among the laughing hill…
It ought to be lovely to be old to be full of the peace that comes… and wrinkled ripe fulfilment. The wrinkled smile of completeness… lived undaunted and unsoured with…
Love has crept out of her sealéd h… As a field-bee, black and amber, Breaks from the winter-cell, to cl… Up the warm grass where the sunbea… Mischief has come in her dawning e…
If you make a revolution, make it… don’t make it in ghastly seriousne… don’t do it in deadly earnest, do it for fun. Don’t do it because you hate peopl…
YOU promised to send me some viol… White ones and blue ones from unde… Sweet dark purple, and white ones… Of our early love that hardly has… Here there’s an almond tree—you ha…
Out of the darkness, fretted somet… Jets of sparks in fountains of blu… To sight, revealing a secret, numb… Sometimes the darkness trapped wit… Runs into speed like a dream, the…
Patience, little Heart. One day a heavy, June—hot woman Will enter and shut the door to st… And when your stifling heart would… Cool, lonely night, her roused bre…
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff… No, not even sniff at her, his nos… Only he senses the vulnerable fold… That work beneath her while she sp…
Between the avenues of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks, and s… Of linen, go the chaunting chorist… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…
Ah, you stack of white lilies, all… A am adrift as a sunbeam, and with… Or having, save I light on you to… Your pallor into radiance, flush y… White beauty into incandescence: y…
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…
O STIFFLY shapen houses that c… What conjuror’s cloth was thrown a… and raised To show you thus transfigured, cha… Your stuff all gone, your menace a…
We’ve made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woma… That moment I begin to hate her. The moment I even say to a woman:…
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk egg?
The sick grapes on the chair by th… The tassel of the blind swings gen… As a little wind comes in. The room is the hollow rind of a f… Scooped out and dry, where a spide…