#EnglishWriters
The clock is frozen in the tower, The thickening fog with sooty smel… Has blanketed the motor power Which turns the London streets to… And footsteps with their lonely so…
In uniform behold me stand, The lovely lift at my command. I press the button: Pop, And down I go below the town; The walls rise up as I go down
Up the ash tree climbs the ivy, Up the ivy climbs the sun, With a twenty-thousand pattering, Has a valley breeze begun, Feathery ash, neglected elder,
Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Miss J.Hunt… Furnish’d and burnish’d by Alders… What strenuous singles we played a… We in the tournament - you against… Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakn…
In among the silver birches, Winding ways of tarmac wander And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Break. Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches
I made hay while the sun shone. My work sold. Now, if the harvest is over And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter
The first-class brains of a senior… Shiver and shatter and fall As the steering column of his comf… Batters in the bony wall. All those delicate re-adjustments
Walking from school is a consummat… Which route to follow to avoid the… Which paths to find that lead, cir… To leafy squirrel haunts and plopp… For dreams of Archibald and Tiger…
Bells are booming down the bohreen… White the mist along the grass, Now the Julias, Maeves and Maure… Move between the fields to Mass. Twisted trees of small green apple
How did the Devil come? When firs… These Norfolk lanes recall lost i… The years fall off and find me wal… Dragging a stick along the wooden… Down this same path, where, forty…
From Bermondsey to Wandsworth So many churches are, Some with apsidal chancels, Some Perpendicular And schools by E.R. Robson
In the licorice fields at Pontefr… My love and I did meet And many a burdened licorice bush Was blooming round our feet; Red hair she had and golden skin,
Phone for the fish knives, Norman As cook is a little unnerved; You kiddies have crumpled the serv… And I must have things daintily s… Are the requisites all in the toil…
Here among long-discarded cassocks… Damp stools, and half-split open h… Here where the vicar never looks I nibble through old service books… Lean and alone I spend my days
Gaily into Ruislip Gardens Runs the red electric train, With a thousand Ta’s and Pardon’s Daintily alights Elaine; Hurries down the concrete station