#EnglishWriters
Ah, love, within the shadow of the… The laurels are cut down; some oth… May bear the classic wreath which… And find the burden honorable and… Have we not passed the laurels as…
My locks are shorn for sorrow Of love which may not be; Tomorrow and tomorrow Are plotting cruelty. The winter wind tangles
Here’s a wonderful thing, A humming-bird’s wing In hammered gold, And store well chosen Of snowflakes frozen
The garden’s full of scented wallf… And, save that these stir faintly,… Only a distant bell in hollow chim… Cried out just now for far-forgote… And three reverberate words the gr…
Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds
I saw a Tiger’s golden flank, I saw what food he ate, By a desert spring he drank; The Tiger’s name was Hate. Then I saw a placid Lamb
Once, when my husband was a child,… To his father’s table, one who cal… In sunbleached corduroys paler tha… His look was grave and kind; he bo… Of the dead singer of Senlac, and…
The Hielan’ lassies are a’ for sp… The Lowlan’ lassies for prinkin’… My daddie w’u’d chide me, an’ so w… If I s’u’d bring hame sic a prink… Now haud your tongue, ye haverin’…
When foxes eat the last gold grape… And the last white antelope is kil… I shall stop fighting and escape Into a little house I’ll build. But first I’ll shrink to fairy si…
Alembics turn to stranger things Strange things, but never while we… Shall magic turn this bronze that… To singing water in a sieve. The trumpets of Cæsar’s guard
Let us walk in the white snow In a soundless space; With footsteps quiet snd slow, At a tranquil pace, Under veils of white lace.
I shall die hidden in a hut In the middle of an alder wood, With the back door blind and bolte… And the front door locked for good… I shall lie folded like a saint,
For a picture This Pekingese, that makes the sa… Is digging little tunnels to Peki… Dream him emerging in a porcelain… Where wounded dragons stain a pear…
The rain’s cold grains are silver-… Sharp as golden sands, A bell is clanging, people sway Hanging by their hands. Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff…
Hate in the world’s hand Can carve and set its seal Like the strong blast of sand Which cuts into steel. I have seen how the finger of hate