#EnglishWriters
If you live along with all the oth… and are just like them, and confor… you’re just a worm — and if you live with all the other… and you don’t like them and won’t…
My love looks like a girl to—night… But she is old. The plaits that lie along her pill… Are not gold, But threaded with filigree silver,
Yours is the shame and sorrow, But the disgrace is mine; Your love was dark and thorough, Mine was the love of the sun for a… He creates with his shine.
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,
The profoundest of all sensualitie… is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual exper… is the sense of justice.
Don’t you care for my love? she sa… I handed her the mirror, and said: Please address these questions to… Please make all requests to head—q… In all matters of emotional import…
You, if you were sensible, When I tell you the stars flash s… You would not turn and answer me “The night is wonderful.” Even you, if you knew
When the bare feet of the baby bea… The little white feet nod like whi… They poise and run like ripples la… And the sight of their white play… Is like a little robin’s song, win…
As a drenched, drowned bee Hangs numb and heavy from a bendin… So clings to me My baby, her brown hair brushed wi… And laid against her cheek;
I wonder, can the night go by; Can this shot arrow of travel fly Shaft—golden with light, sheer int… Of a dawned to—morrow, Without ever sleep delivering us
WHEN into the night the yellow l… Or like a mist the moon has kissed… Our faces flower for a little hour… Daisies that waken all mistaken wh… The luminous mist which the poor t…
My world is a painted fresco, wher… Of old, ineffectual lives linger b… An endless tapestry the past has w… The halls of my life, compelling m… The surface of dreams is broken,
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…
The pine-trees bend to listen to t… Something which sets the black pop… While slowly the house of day is c… Further down the valley the cluste… Winding about their dimness the mi…