#EnglishWriters
My eyes catch ruddy necks Sturdily pressed back - All a red brick moving glint. Like flaming pendulums, hands Swing across the khaki -
If you are fire and I am fire, Who blows the flame apart So that desire eludes desire Around one central heart? A single root and separate bough,
Through these pale cold days What dark faces burn Out of three thousand years, And their wild eyes yearn, While underneath their brows
Slow, rigid, is this masquerade That passes as through a difficult… Heavily-heavily passes. What has she fed on? Who her tabl… Through the three seasons? What f…
I killed them, but they would not… Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or slee… Nor guard from them nor hide in fl… Then in my agony I turned
I have lived in the underworld so… How can you, a creature of light, Without terror understand the song And unmoved hear what moves in nig… I am a spirit that yours has found…
Call-call—and bruise the air: Shatter dumb space! Yea! We will ding this passion ev… Leaving no place For the superb and grave
A worm fed on the heart of Corint… Babylon and Rome: Not Paris raped tall Helen, But this incestuous worm, Who lured her vivid beauty
Moses, from whose loins I sprung, Lit by a lamp in his blood Ten immutable rules, a moon For mutable lampless men. The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy,
The darkness crumbles away It is the same old druid Time as… Only a live thing leaps my hand, A queer sardonic rat, As I pull the parapet’s poppy
What if you shut your eyes and loo… Yea, look with all the spirit’s ey… While mystic unrevealed skies Unfold like pages of a book Wherein new scenes of wonder rare
She bade us listen to the singing… In tones far sweeter than its own: For fear that she should cease and… We built the bird a feigned throne… Shrined in her gracious glory-givi…
0, in a world of men and women, Where all things seemed so strange… And speech the common world called… For me was a vain mimicry, I thought-O, am I one in sorrow?
Ah, Koelue! Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go, Or change in any way, What were the use, if on my eyes
Grotesque and queerly huddled Contortionists to twist The sleepy soul to a sleep, We lie all sorts of ways And cannot sleep.