#EnglishWriters
The flame—red moon, the harvest mo… Rolls along the hills, gently boun… A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upwar… To lie on the bottom of the sky, l…
The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother’s heirloom sideboard— Mapped with the scars of my whole… That came under the hammer.
The stick insect sitting at his st… In the little lamp of his belly is… Lost among glittering traffic, and… A toad is stone-motion, mould-prid… The jewel in this head is the wisd…
A shattered army, Thames’ filthy… Not a beautiful spectacle For the drinkers of history, or fo… Or my friends, this island’s paral… Wordsworth’s head went down here s…
The dog loved its churlish life, Scraps, thefts. Itsdeclined blood An anarchy of mindless pride. Nobody’s pet, but good enough To double with a bitch as poor.
I climbed through woods in the hou… Evil air, a frost-making stillness… Not a leaf, not a bird,— A world cast in frost. I came out… Where my breath left tortuous stat…
When Crow was white he decided th… He decided it glared much too whit… He decided to attack it and defeat… He got his strength up flush and i… He clawed and fluffed his rage up.
We sit late, watching the dark slo… No clock counts this. When kisses are repeated and the a… There is no telling where time is. It is midsummer: the leaves hang b…
Once upon a time there was a perso… He was walking along He met the full burning moon Rolling slowly twoards him Crushing the stones and houses by…
The swallow of summer, she toils a… A blue—dark knot of glittering vol… A whiplash swimmer, a fish of the… But the serpent of cars that crawl… In shimmering exhaust
You had to come Calling my singularity In scorn, Imprisonment. It contained content
The clock says “When will it be m… The sun says “Noon hurt me.” The river cries with its mouthful… And the sea moves every way withou… Out of my ear grew a reed
With nothing to brag about but the… Tearing boar-flesh and swilling al… A fermenting of huge-chested bragg… Got nowhere by sitting still To hear some timorous poet enlarge…
Freezing dusk is closing Like a slow trap of steel On trees and roads and hills and a… That can no longer feel. But the carp is in its depth
Love struck into his life Like a hawk into a dovecote. What a cry went up! Every gentle pedigree dove Blindly clattered and beat,