#EnglishWriters
Cut grass lies frail: Brief is the breath Mown stalks exhale. Long, long the death It dies in the white hours
To put one brick upon another, Add a third and then a forth, Leaves no time to wonder whether What you do has any worth. But to sit with bricks around you
Coming up England by a different… For once, early in the cold new ye… We stopped, and, watching men with… Sprint down the platform to famili… ‘Why, Coventry!’ I exclaimed. ‘I…
How distant, the departure of youn… Down valleys, or watching The green shore past the salt—whit… Rising and falling. Cattlemen, or carpenters, or keen
Boys dream of native girls who bri… Whatever they are, As bribes to teach them how to exe… Sixteen sexual positions on the sa… This makes them join (the boys) th…
On the day of the explosion Shadows pointed towards the pithea… In the sun the slagheap slept. Down the lane came men in pitboots Coughing oath-edged talk and pipe-…
On shallow straw, in shadeless gla… Huddled by empty bowls, they sleep… No dark, no dam, no earth, no gras… Mam, get us one of them to keep. Living toys are something novel,
When she came on, you couldn’t kee… Fighting your way up through the o… Tup—heavy bumpkin, you confused yo… Fell in the drum —how we went ha h… But once you gained her side and s…
Lonely in Ireland, since it was n… Strangeness made sense. The salt… Insisting so on difference, made m… Once that was recognised, we were… Their draughty streets, end—on to…
Continuing to live—that is, repeat A habit formed to get necessaries— Is nearly always losing, or going… It varies. This loss of interest, hair, and e…
Suspended lion face Spilling at the centre Of an unfurnished sky How still you stand, And how unaided
This is the first thing I have understood: Time is the echo of an axe Within a wood.
Obedient daily dress, You cannot always keep That unfakable young surface. You must learn your lines — Anger, amusement, sleep;
In frames as large as rooms that f… And block the ends of streets with… Screen graves with custard, cover… Of motor—oil and cuts of salmon, s… Perpetually these sharply—pictured…
Morning, a glass door, flashes Gold names off the new city, Whose white shelves and domes trav… The slow sky all day. I land to stay here;