#English #XXCentury
Under your Milky Way And slow—revolving Bear Frogs from the alder thicket pray In terror of your judgement day, Loud with repentance there.
‘Edward back from the Indian Sea, What have you brought for Nancy?’ ‘A rope of pearls and a gold earri… And a bird of the East that will… A carven tooth, a box with a key—’
Cronos the Ruddy, steer your boat Toward Silver Island whence we si… Here you shall pass your days. Through a thick—growing alder—wood We clearly see, but are not seen,
With a fork drive Nature out, She will ever yet return; Hedge the flowerbed all about, Pull or stab or cut or burn, She will ever yet return.
Here is this patchwork quilt I’ve… Of patterned silks and old brocade… Small faded rags in memory rich Sewn each to each with feather sti… But if you stare aghast perhaps
he child alone a poet is: Spring and Fairyland are his. Truth and Reason show but dim, And all’s poetry with him. Rhyme and music flow in plenty
I’ve watched the Seasons passing… In the fields between La Bassée a… Primroses and the first warm day o… Red poppy floods of June, August, and yellowing Autumn, so
A page, a huntsman and a priest of… Her lovers, met in jealous contrar… Equally claiming the sole parentho… Of him the perfect crown of their… Then, whom to admit, herself she c…
An ancient saga tells us how In the beginning the First Cow (For nothing living yet had birth But Elemental Cow on earth) Began to lick cold stones and mud:
Children, if you dare to think Of the greatness, rareness, muchne… Fewness of this precious only Endless world in which you say You live, you think of things like…
The butterfly, the cabbage white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the art of flying straight, Yet has —who knows so well as I?…
We found the little captain at the… His men lay well-aligned. We touched his hand—stone cold—and… And they, all dead behind, Had never reached their goal, but…
IT’S hard to know if you’re alive… When steel and fire go roaring thr… One moment you’ll be crouching at… Traversing, mowing heaps down half… The next, you choke and clutch at…
‘Gabble—gabble, . . . brethren, .… My window frames forest and heathe… I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whethe… The text is praise or exhortation,
‘Gabble—gabble . . . brethren . .… My window glimpses larch and heath… I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whethe… The text is praise or exhortation,