#EnglishWriters
He’d even have his joke While we were sitting tight, And so he needs must poke His silly head in sight To whisper some new jest
All day beneath the hurtling shell… Before my burning eyes Hover the dainty demoiselles— The peacock dragon-flies. Unceasingly they dart and glance
They found her cold upon the bed. The cause of death, the doctor sai… Was nothing save the lack of bread… Her clothes were but a sorry rag That barely hid the nakedness
Near the great pyramid, unshadowed… With apex piercing the white noon-… Swathed in white robes beneath the… Lie sleeping Bedouins drenched in… About them, searing to the tinglin…
The Lonely Road So long had I travelled the lonel… Though, now and again, a wayfairin… Walked shoulder to shoulder, and l… I often would think to myself as…
ALL day the mallet thudded far be… My garret, in an old ramshackle sh… Where ceaselessly, with stiffly no… And rigid motions ever to and fro A figure like a puppet in a show
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…
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…
So long had I travelled the lonel… Though, now and again, a wayfairin… Walked shoulder to shoulder, and l… I often would think to myself as… No comrade will journey with you t…
Your face was lifted to the golden… Ablaze beyond the black roofs of t… As flame on flame leapt, flourishi… Its tumult of red stars exultantly To the cold constellations dim and…
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…
Through the pale green forest of t… Whose interwoven fronds, a jade-gr… Above me glimmer, infinitely high, Towards my giant hand a beetle wal… In glistening emerald mail; and as…
As beneath the moon I walked, Dog-at-heel, my shadow stalked, Keeping ghostly company: And as we went gallantly Down the fell-road, dusty-white,
AS I was marching in Flanders A ghost kept step with me— Kept step with me and chuckled And muttered ceaselessly: “Once I too marched in Flanders,
A HANDFUL of cherries She gave me in passing, The wizened old woman, And wished me good luck– And again I was dreaming,