#EnglishWriters
Our hunting fathers told the story Of the sadness of the creatures, Pitied the limits and the lack Set in their finished features; Saw in the lion’s intolerant look,
Say this city has ten million soul… Some are living in mansions, some… Yet there’s no place for us, my de… Once we had a country and we thoug… Look in the atlas and you’ll find…
And the age ended, and the last de… In bed, grown idle and unhappy; th… The sudden shadow of the giant’s e… Would fall no more at dusk across… They slept in peace: in marshes he…
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.
Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave
At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end, the delicious story is ripe to tel… to tell to the intimate friend; over the tea-cups and into the squ…
Stop all the clocks, cut off the t… Prevent the dog from barking with… Silence the pianos and with muffle… Bring out the coffin, let the mour… Let aeroplanes circle moaning over…
They wondered why the fruit had be… It taught them nothing new. They… But did not listen much when they… They knew exactly what to do outsi… They left. Immediately the memory…
Give me a doctor partridge-plump, Short in the leg and broad in the… An endomorph with gentle hands Who’ll never make absurd demands That I abandon all my vices
Unbiased at least he was when he a… Having never set eyes on the land… Between two peoples fanatically at… With their different diets and inc… “Time,” they had briefed him in L…
We, too, had known golden hours When body and soul were in tune, Had danced with our true loves By the light of a full moon, And sat with the wise and good
First Things First Woken, I lay in the arms of my ow… To a storm enjoying its storminess… Till my ear, as it can when half-a… Set to work to unscramble that int…
He was found by the Bureau of Sta… One against whom there was no offi… And all the reports on his conduct… That, in the modern sense of an ol… saint,
Anthropos apteros for days Walked whistling round and round t… Relying happily upon His temperment for getting on. The hundredth time he sighted, tho…
Nobody I know would like to be bu… with a silver cocktail-shaker, a transistor radio and a strangled daily help, or keep his word becau… of a great-great-grandmother who g…