#EnglishWriters
A tiny moon as white and small as… Leans all alone above my window, o… Liquid as lime-tree blossom, soft… She shines, the one white love of…
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? Ah, you will understand;
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…
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…
Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and su… Of linen, go the chanting choriste… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…
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,
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…
The acrid scents of autumn, Reminiscent of slinking beasts, ma… Everything, tear-trembling stars o… And the snore of the night in my e… For suddenly, flush-fallen,
The feelings I don’t have I don’t… The feeling I don’t have, I won’t… The feelings you say you have, you… The feelings you would like us bot… The feelings people ought to have,…
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…
Since I lost you, my darling, the… And I am of it, the small sharp s… The white moon going among them li… And the sound of her gently rustli… And I am willing to come to you n…
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…
At evening, sitting on this terrac… When the sun from the west, beyond… Departs, and the world is taken by… When the tired flower of Florence… Brown hills surrounding...
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead… without ever having felt sorry for…
Last night a thief came to me And struck at me with something da… I cried, but no one could hear me, I lay dumb and stark. When I awoke this morning