#EnglishWriters
It was my bridal night I remember… An old man of seventy-three I lay with my young bride in my ar… A girl with t.b. It was wartime, and overhead
The nearly right And yet not quite In love is wholly evil And every heart That loves in part
Deeply morbid deeply morbid was th… Always out of office hours running… But when daylight and the darkness… Not for this ah not for this her o… It was that look within her eye
Dearest Evelyn, I often think of… Out with the guns in the jungle st… Yesterday I hittapotamus I put the measurements down for yo… It’s not a good thing to drink out…
In the flame of the flickering fir… The sins of my soul are few And the thoughts in my head are th… With a solitary view. But the eye of eternal consciousne…
Why is the word pretty so underrat… In November the leaf is pretty wh… The stream grows deep in the woods… And in the pretty pool the pike st… He stalks his prey, and this is pr…
Christ died for God and me Upon the crucifixion tree For God a spoken Word For me a Sword For God a hymn of praise
I do not ask for mercy for underst… And in these heavy days I do not… I do not ask that suffering shall… I do not pray to God to let me di… To give an ear attentive to my cry
Was he married, did he try To support as he grew less fond of… Wife and family? No, He never suffered such a blow.
Mother, among the dustbins and the… I feel the measure of my humanity,… As of the presence of God, I am s… In the dustbins, in the manure, in… Is the presence of God, in a sure…
Alone in the woods I felt The bitter hostility of the sky an… Nature has taught her creatures to… Man that fusses and fumes Unquiet man
Sisely Walked so nicely With footsteps so discreet To see her pass You’d never guess
Never again will I weep And wring my hands And beat my head against the wall Because Me nolentem fata trahunt
Tenuous and Precarious Were my guardians, Precarious and Tenuous, Two Romans. My father was Hazardous,
Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you th… And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking