#EnglishWriters
The earth again like a ship steams… The edge of the blue, and the sun… Slowly into another day; slowly th… Vessel of darkness takes the risin… I, on the deck, am startled by thi…
At evening, sitting on this terrac… When the sun from the west, beyond… Departs, and the world is taken by… When the tired flower of Florence… Brown hills surrounding...
At the open door of the room I st… Hold my hand to catch the raindrop… Arriving grey from the darkness ab… I will escape from the hollow room… And be out in the bewildering dark…
Ah, my darling, when over the purp… The shrouded mother of a new idea,… Cry out and fend her off, as she s… Wounding themselves against her, d…
Butterfly, the wind blows sea—ward… strong beyond the garden—wall! Butterfly, why do you settle on my shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe, Lifting your veined wings, lifting…
Always, sweetheart, Carry into your room the blossomin… Almond and apple and pear diffuse… Soon strews itself on the floor; a… Fresh quivering; keep the sunny—sw…
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
I thought he was dumb, I said he was dumb, Yet I’ve heard him cry. First faint scream, Out of life’s unfathomable dawn,
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping the golden light Which weaves its way through the c… To my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead… without ever having felt sorry for…
There is nothing to save, now all… but a tiny core of stillness in th… like the eye of a violet.
What large, dark hands are those a… Grasping in the golden light Which weaves its way through the e… At my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…
We are a liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a l… whereas letters are fixed, and we live by the letter of truth… The love I feel for my friend, th…
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…
Between the avenues of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks, and s… Of linen, go the chaunting chorist… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…