#EnglishWriters
So went our boys when Edward Sixt… Chartered Christ’s Hospital, and… Full fifteen generations in a stri… Of heirs to his bequest have had t… Thus Camden showed, and Barnes, a…
In the placid summer midnight, Under the drowsy sky, I seem to hear in the stillness The moths go glimmering by. One by one from the windows
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pol… I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance
Laughs the happy April morn Thro’ my grimy, little window, And a shaft of sunshine pushes Thro’ the shadows in the square. Dogs are tracing thro’ the grass,
SINCE those we love and those we… With all things mean and all thing… Pass in a desperate disarray Over the hills and far away: It must be, Dear, that, late or s…
Thin-legged, thin-chested, slight… Neat-footed and weak-fingered: in… Lean, large-boned, curved of beak,… Bold-lipped, rich-tinted, mutable… The brown eyes radiant with vivaci…
‘Liza’s old man’s perhaps a little… ‘Liza’s old woman’s prone to booze… But ‘Liza deems herself a perfect… And proves it in her feathers and… For ’Liza has a bloke her heart t…
The blackbird sang, the skies were… We bowled along a road that curved… Superbly sinuous and serpentine Thro’ silent symphonies of summer… Sudden the Forth came on us—sad o…
With a ripple of leaves and a tink… The full world rolls in a rhythm o… And the winds are one with the clo… Midsummer days! Midsummer days! The dusk grows vast; in a purple h…
Here in this dim, dull, double-bed… I play the father to a brace of bo… Ailing but apt for every sort of n… Bedfast but brilliant yet with hea… Roden, the Irishman, is ‘sieven p…
To GARRYOWEN upon an organ gr… Two girls are jigging. Riotously… With eyes aflame, quick bosoms, ha… As in the tumult of a witches’ rou… Youngsters and youngsters round th…
At the barren heart of midnight, When the shadow shuts and opens As the loud flames pulse and flutt… I can hear a cistern leaking. Dripping, dropping, in a rhythm,
Spring winds that blow As over leagues of myrtle-blooms a… Bevies of spring clouds trooping s… Like matrons heavy bosomed and agl… With the mild and placid pride of…
Gold or silver, every day, Dies to gray. There are knots in every skein. Hours of work and hours of play Fade away
Exceeding tall, but built so well… Half-disappears in flow of chest a… Moustache and whisker trooper-like… Frank-faced, frank-eyed, frank-hea… And always punctual-morning, noon,…