#EnglishWriters
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead… without ever having felt sorry for…
If you are a man, and believe in t… then say to yourself: we will ceas… about property and money and mecha… and open our consciousness to the… that we are now cut off from.
Had I but known yesterday, Helen, you could discharge the ach… Out of the cloud; Had I known yesterday you could t… The turgid electric ache away,
It ought to be lovely to be old to be full of the peace that comes… and wrinkled ripe fulfilment. The wrinkled smile of completeness… lived undaunted and unsoured with…
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…
This is the last of all, this is t… I must hold my hands, and turn my… I must watch my dead days fusing t… Shape after shape, and scene after… Fusing to one dead mass in the sin…
When the autumn roses Are heavy with dew, Before the mist discloses The leaf’s brown hue, You would, among the laughing hill…
And who has seen the moon, who has… Her rise from out the chamber of t… Flushed and grand and naked, as fr… Of finished bridegroom, seen her r… Confession of delight upon the wav…
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…
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,
Now and again All my body springs alive, And the life that is polarised in… That quivers between my eyes and m… Flies like a wild thing across my…
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,…
Don’t you care for my love? she sa… I handed her the mirror, and said: Please address these questions to… Please make all requests to head—q… In all matters of emotional import…
Oh the green glimmer of apples in… Lamps in a wash of rain! Oh the wet walk of my brown hen th… Oh tears on the window pane! Nothing now will ripen the bright…
THE cuckoo and the coo-dove’s cea… Calling, Of a meaningless monotony is palli… All my morning’s pleasure in the s… May-blossom and blue bird’s-eye fl…