#EnglishWriters
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.
Now through night’s caressing grip Earth and all her oceans slip, Capes of China slide away From her fingers into day And th’Americas incline
Lady, weeping at the crossroads, Would you meet your love In the twilight with his greyhound… And the hawk on his glove? Bribe the birds then on the branch…
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,
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.
Poet, oracle and wit Like unsuccessful anglers by Th ponds of apperception sit, Baiting with the wrong request The vectors of their interest;
He looked in all His wisdom from… Down on that humble boy who kept t… And sent a dove; the dove returned… Youth liked the music, but soon fe… But He had planned such future fo…
Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave
Taller to-day, we remember similar… Walking together in a windless orc… Where the brook runs over the grav… Nights come bringing the snow, and… Under headlands in their windy dwe…
Law, say the gardeners, is the sun… Law is the one All gardeners obey To-morrow, yesterday, to-day. Law is the wisdom of the old,
Around them boomed the rhetoric of… The smells and furniture of the kn… Where conscience worshipped an aes… And what was unsuccessful was cond… And, at the centre of its vast sel…
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
If it form the one landscape that… Are consistently homesick for, thi… Because it dissolves in water. Ma… With their surface fragrance of th… A secret system of caves and condu…
Our earth in 1969 Is not the planet I call mine, The world, I mean, that gives me… To hold off chaos at arm’s length. My Eden landscapes and their clim…
Seated after breakfast In this white-tiled cabin Arabs call the House where Everybody goes, Even melancholics