#English Modern
I wonder, can the night go by; Can this shot arrow of travel fly Shaft—golden with light, sheer int… Of a dawned to—morrow, Without ever sleep delivering us
The new red houses spring like pla… In level rows Of reddish herbage that bristles a… Its square shadows. The pink young houses show one sid…
SAD as he sits on the white sea-s… And the suave sea chuckles, and tu… And the moon significant smiles at… He sits like a shade by the flood… While I dance a tarantella on the…
The quick sparks on the gorse—bush… Little jets of sunlight texture im… Above them, exultant, the peewits… They have triumphed again o’er the… Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth,…
Search for nothing any more, nothi… except truth. Be very still, and try and get at… And the first question to ask your… How great a liar am I?
Since I lost you, my darling, the… And I am of it, the small sharp s… The white moon going among them li… And the sound of her gently rustli… And I am willing to come to you n…
This spring as it comes bursts up… Wild puffing of emerald trees, and… Thorn—blossom lifting in wreaths o… Where the wood fumes up and the wa… I am amazed at this spring, this c…
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,…
The train in running across the we… So even, it beats like silence, an… Embrace of darkness lie around, an… And littered lettering of leaves a… The open book of landscape no more…
It is stormy, and raindrops cling… The thin sycamores in the playgrou… The heads of the boys move dimly t… The class; over them all the dark… It is no good, dear, gentleness an…
The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun… The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black… Sweep past the window again. Along the vacant road, a red
Somewhere the long mellow note of… Quickens the unclasping hands of h… Somewhere the wind—flowers fling t… Stirred by an impetuous wind. Som… All be sweet with white and blue v…
The profoundest of all sensualitie… is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual exper… is the sense of justice.
It is conceit that kills us and makes us cowards instead of go… Under the great Command: Know thy… we have become fatally self—consci… Now we have to admit we can’t know…