#EnglishWriters
Again in conversations Speaking of fear And throwing off reserve The voice is nearer But no clearer
Nobody I know would like to be bu… with a silver cocktail-shaker, a transistor radio and a strangled daily help, or keep his word becau… of a great-great-grandmother who g…
He was found by the Bureau of Sta… One against whom there was no offi… And all the reports on his conduct… That, in the modern sense of an ol… saint,
My dear one is mine as mirrors are… As the poor and sad are real to th… And the high green hill sits alway… Up jumped the Black Man behind th… Turned a somersault and ran away w…
Here war is simple like a monument… A telephone is speaking to a man; Flags on a map assert that troops… A boy brings milk in bowls. There… For living men in terror of their…
The Hidden Law does not deny Our laws of probability, But takes the atom and the star And human beings as they are, And answers nothing when we lie.
It’s no use raising a shout. No, Honey, you can cut that right… I don’t want any more hugs; Make me some fresh tea, fetch me s… Here am I, here are you:But what…
As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river
Our earth in 1969 Is not the planet I call mine, The world, I mean, that gives me… To hold off chaos at arm’s length. My Eden landscapes and their clim…
Our hunting fathers told the story Of the sadness of the creatures, Pitied the limits and the lack Set in their finished features; Saw in the lion’s intolerant look,
Time will say nothing but I told… Time only knows the price we have… If I could tell you I would let y… If we should weep when clowns put… If we should stumble when musician…
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colors wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks
Some thirty inches from my nose The frontier of my Person goes, And all the untilled air between Is private pagus or demesne. Stranger, unless with bedroom eyes
Dear, though the night is gone, Its dream still haunts to-day, That brought us to a room Cavernous, lofty as A railway terminus,
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colours wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks