#EnglishWriters
This is the night mail crossing th… Bringing the cheque and the postal… Letters for the rich, letters for… The shop at the corner, the girl n… Pulling up Beattock, a steady cli…
For us like any other fugitive, Like the numberless flowers that c… And all the beasts that need not r… It is today in which we live. So many try to say Not Now,
O what is that sound which so thri… Down in the valley drumming, drumm… Only the scarlet soldiers, dear, The soldiers coming. O what is that light I see flashi…
Perfection, of a kind, was what he… And the poetry he invented was eas… He knew human folly like the back… And was greatly interested in armi… When he laughed, respectable senat…
This lunar beauty Has no history Is complete and early, If beauty later Bear any feature
Anthropos apteros for days Walked whistling round and round t… Relying happily upon His temperment for getting on. The hundredth time he sighted, tho…
“O where are you going?” said read… “That valley is fatal where furnac… Yonder’s the midden whose odours w… That gap is the grave where the ta… “O do you imagine,” said fearer to…
Now the leaves are falling fast, Nurse’s flowers will not last; Nurses to the graves are gone, And the prams go rolling on. Whispering neighbours, left and ri…
First Things First Woken, I lay in the arms of my ow… To a storm enjoying its storminess… Till my ear, as it can when half-a… Set to work to unscramble that int…
Ours yet not ours, being set apart As a shrine to friendship, Empty and silent most of the year, This room awaits from you What you alone, as visitor, can br…
He looked in all His wisdom from… Down on that humble boy who kept t… And sent a dove; the dove returned… Youth liked the music, but soon fe… But He had planned such future fo…
Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave
Poet, oracle and wit Like unsuccessful anglers by Th ponds of apperception sit, Baiting with the wrong request The vectors of their interest;
The piers are pummelled by the wav… In a lonely field the rain Lashes an abandoned train; Outlaws fill the mountain caves. Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Warm are the still and lucky miles… White shores of longing stretch aw… A light of recognition fills The whole great day, and bright The tiny world of lovers’ arms.