#EnglishWriters
Dear absurd child—too dear to my c… God made your soul for pleasure, n… It cleaves no way, but angled broa… Impinges with a slabby-bellied sou… Full upon life, and on the rind of…
Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze All imperturbable do not Even make pretences to regard The justing absence of her stays, Where many a Tyrian gallipot
There is a country in my mind, Lovelier than a poet blind Could dream of, who had never know… This world of drought and dust and… In all its ugliness: a place
Fine as the dust of plumy fountain… Across the lanterns of a revelling… The tiny leaves of April’s earlie… Powder the trees—so vaporously lig… They seem to float, billows of eme…
Failing sometimes to understand Why there are folk whose flesh sho… Like carrion puffed with noisome s… Fly-blown to the eye that looks on… Fly-blown to the touch of a hand;
Spring is past and over these many… Spring and summer. The leaves of… Yellowing afid all but dead on the… Nor is there any hope in me. I wa… Slowly homeward. Night is as empt…
Sitting on the top of the 'bus, I bite my pipe and look at the sky… Over my shoulder the smoke streams… And my life with it. “Conservation of energy,” you say.
Shepherd, to yon tall poplars tune… Let them pierce, keenly, subtly sh… The slow blue rumour of the hill; Let the grass cry with an anguish… And the great sky be mute.
A million million spermatozoa All of them alive; Out of their cataclysm but one poo… Dare hope to survive. And among that billion minus one
Noonday upon the Alpine meadows Pours its avalanche of Light And blazing flowers: the very shad… Translucent are and bright. It seems a glory that nought surpa…
At your mouth, white and milk-warm… I taste a strange apocalypse: Your subtle taper finger-tips Weave me new heavens, yet, methink… I know the wiles and each iynx
Once more the windless days are he… Quiet of autumn, when the year Halts and looks backward and draws… Before it plunges into death. Silver of mist and gossamers,
Thought is an unseen net wherein o… Is taken and vainly struggles to b… Words, that should loose our spiri… New fetters on our hoped-for liber… And action bears us onward like a…
My green aquarium of phantom fish, Goggling in on me through the mist… My rotting leaves and fields spong… My few clear quiet autumn days—I… I could leave all, clearness and m…
The stars are golden instants in t… Flawless expanse of night: the moo… The river sleeps, entranced, a smo… Seeming so motionless that I forg… The hollow booming bridges, where…