#EnglishWriters
So from the years the gifts were s… Ran off with his at once into his… Bee took the politics that make a… Fish swam as fish, peach settled i… And were successful at the first e…
This lunar beauty Has no history Is complete and early, If beauty later Bear any feature
Clocks cannot tell our time of day For what event to pray Because we have no time, because We have no time until We know what time we fill,
Base words are uttered only by the… And can for such at once be unders… But noble platitudes:—ah, there’s… Where the most careful scrutiny is… To tell a voice that’s genuinely g…
“O where are you going?” said read… “That valley is fatal where furnac… Yonder’s the midden whose odours w… That gap is the grave where the ta… “O do you imagine,” said fearer to…
Looking up at the stars, I know q… That, for all they care, I can go… But on earth indifference is the l… We have to dread from man or beast… How should we like it were stars t…
Underneath the leaves of life, Green on the prodigious tree, In a trance of grief Stand the fallen man and wife: Far away the single stag
A living-room, the catholic area y… (Thou, rather) and I may enter without knocking, leave without a… each visitor with a style, a secular faith: he compares its d…
Certainly our city with its byres… The river’s edge, its cathedral, i… Here is the cosmopolitan cooking And the light alloys and the glass… Built by the conscience-stricken,…
Again in conversations Speaking of fear And throwing off reserve The voice is nearer But no clearer
Underneath an abject willow, Lover, sulk no more: Act from thought should quickly fo… What is thinking for? Your unique and moping station
Encased in talent like a uniform, The rank of every poet is well kno… They can amaze us like a thunderst… Or die so young, or live for years… They can dash forward like hussars…
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…
Warm are the still and lucky miles… White shores of longing stretch aw… A light of recognition fills The whole great day, and bright The tiny world of lovers’ arms.
Sharp and silent in the Clear October lighting Of a Sunday morning The great city lies; And I at a window