#EnglishWriters
He looked in all His wisdom from… Down on that humble boy who kept t… And sent a dove; the dove returned… Youth liked the music, but soon fe… But He had planned such future fo…
Clocks cannot tell our time of day For what event to pray Because we have no time, because We have no time until We know what time we fill,
Ares at last has quit the field, The bloodstains on the bushes yiel… To seeping showers, And in their convalescent state The fractured towns associate
Underneath an abject willow, Lover, sulk no more: Act from thought should quickly fo… What is thinking for? Your unique and moping station
Unbiased at least he was when he a… Having never set eyes on the land… Between two peoples fanatically at… With their different diets and inc… “Time,” they had briefed him in L…
Taller to-day, we remember similar… Walking together in a windless orc… Where the brook runs over the grav… Nights come bringing the snow, and… Under headlands in their windy dwe…
If it form the one landscape that… Are consistently homesick for, thi… Because it dissolves in water. Ma… With their surface fragrance of th… A secret system of caves and condu…
For what as easy For what thought small, For what is well Because between, To you simply
She looked over his shoulder For vines and olive trees, Marble well-governed cities And ships upon untamed seas, But there on the shining metal
He told us we were free to choose But, children as we were, we thoug… “Paternal Love will only use Force in the last resort On those too bumptious to repent.”
Stop all the clocks, cut off the t… Prevent the dog from barking with… Silence the pianos and with muffle… Bring out the coffin, let the mour… Let aeroplanes circle moaning over…
A living-room, the catholic area y… (Thou, rather) and I may enter without knocking, leave without a… each visitor with a style, a secular faith: he compares its d…
Deftly, admiral, cast your fly Into the slow deep hover, Till the wise old trout mistake an… Salt are the deeps that cover The glittering fleets you led,
The piers are pummelled by the wav… In a lonely field the rain Lashes an abandoned train; Outlaws fill the mountain caves. Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
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