#English
A HANDFUL of cherries She gave me in passing, The wizened old woman, And wished me good luck– And again I was dreaming,
Out of the sparkling sea I drew my tingling body clear, and… On a low ledge the livelong summer… Basking, and watching lazily White sails in Falmouth Bay.
Wind-flicked and ruddy her young b… In sunny shallows, splashing them… But when on rippled, silver sand s… And over her the little green wave… Coldly translucent and moon-colour…
Roman, Roman, what do you here? Your great Wall is fallen this ma… Fallen, fallen, the Roman Wall; And green grow the bent and the mo… The wind and the rain have tumbled…
A minx in khaki struts the limelit… With false moustache, set smirk an… And straddling legs and swinging h… To swagger it like a soldier, whil… Of rampant ragtime jangle, clash,…
WHEN up the fretful, creaking st… From floor to floor I creep On tiptoe, lest I wake from their… The unknown lodgers lying, layer o…
YOUTH that goes woolgathering, Mooning and stargazing, Always finding everything Full of fresh amazing, Best will meet the moment’s need
Broken, bewildered by the long ret… Across the stifling leagues of sou… Across the scorching leagues of tr… Half-stunned, half-blinded, by the… And dusty smother of the August h…
This bloody steel Has killed a man. I heard him squeal As on I ran. He watched me come
She must go back, she said, Because she’d not had time to make… We’d hurried her away So roughly . . . and for all that… She broke from us, and passed
They gave him a shilling, They gave him a gun; And so he’s gone killing The Germans, my son. I dream of that shilling—
Two rows of cabbages, Two of curly-greens Two rows of early peas, Two of kidney beans. That’s what he keeps muttering,
Dark waters into crystalline brill… About the keel, as through the moo… The dark ship moves in its own mov… Of phosphorescent cold moon-colour… And to the clear horizon, all arou…
We who are left, how shall we look… Happily on the sun or feel the rai… Without remembering how they who w… Ungrudgingly and spent Their lives for us loved, too, the…
And since he rowed his father home… His hand has never touched an oar. All day he wanders on the shore, And hearkens to the swishing foam. Though blind from birth, he still…