#EnglishWriters
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is si… Taking me back down the vista of y… A child sitting under the piano, i… And pressing the small, poised fee… In spite of myself, the insidious…
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping in the yellow lig… Which makes its way through the cu… At my heart to—night? Ah, only the leaves! So leave me…
People were bathing and posturing… and all was dreary, great robot li… robot voices, robot even the gay u… But a woman, shy and alone, was wa… lilies, and like water—lilies.
If I could have put you in my hea… If but I could have wrapped you i… How glad I should have been! And now the chart Of memory unrolls again to me
Forever nameless Forever unknwon Forever unconceived Forever unrepresented yet forever felt in the soul.
The quick sparks on the gorse bush… Little jets of sunlight—texture im… Above them, exultant, the peewits… They are lords of the desolate was… Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth,…
The morning breaks like a pomegran… In a shining crack of red, Ah, when tomorrow the dawn comes l… Whitening across the bed, It will find me watching at the ma…
A big bud of moon hangs out of the… Star—spiders spinning their thread Hang high suspended, withouten res… Watching us overhead. Come then under the trees, where t…
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff… No, not even sniff at her, his nos… Only he senses the vulnerable fold… That work beneath her while she sp…
They say the sea is cold, but the… the hottest blood of all, and the… All the whales in the wider deeps,… on and on, and dive beneath the ic… The right whales, the sperm—whales…
See the stars, love, In the water much clearer and brig… Than those above us, and whiter, Like nenuphars. Star—shadows shine, love,
You know what it is to be born alo… Baby tortoise! The first day to heave your feet l… Not yet awake, And remain lapsed on earth,
The frost has settled down upon th… And ruthlessly strangled off the f… Of leaves that have gone unnoticed… Romantic stories now no more to be… The trees down the boulevard stand…
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic—looking, as if d… Though what she does, except lay f… And put up with her husband,
Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and su… Of linen, go the chanting choriste… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…