#EnglishWriters
The earth again like a ship steams… The edge of the blue, and the sun… Slowly into another day; slowly th… Vessel of darkness takes the risin… I, on the deck, am startled by thi…
A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a j… A fine proud spike of purple irise… Rising above the class—room litter… To see the class’s lifted and bend…
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,
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…
The sick grapes on the chair by th… The tassel of the blind swings gen… As a little wind comes in. The room is the hollow rind of a f… Scooped out and dry, where a spide…
DARKNESS comes out of the eart… And swallows dip into the pallor o… From the hay comes the clamour of… Wanes the old palimpsest. The night-stock oozes scent,
On he goes, the little one, Bud of the universe, Pediment of life. Setting off somewhere, apparently. Whither away, brisk egg?
Yours is the shame and sorrow, But the disgrace is mine; Your love was dark and thorough, Mine was the love of the sun for a… He creates with his shine.
Outside the house an ash—tree hung… And at night when the wind arose,… Shrieked and slashed the wind, as… Weird rigging in a storm shrieks h… Within the house two voices arose…
I thought he was dumb, I said he was dumb, Yet I’ve heard him cry. First faint scream, Out of life’s unfathomable dawn,
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,…
Even iron can put forth, Even iron. This is the iron age, But let us take heart Seeing iron break and bud,
The profoundest of all sensualitie… is the sense of truth and the next deepest sensual exper… is the sense of justice.
THE houses fade in a melt of mist Blotching the thick, soiled air With reddish places that still res… The Night’s slow care. The hopeless, wintry twilight fade…
What large, dark hands are those a… Grasping in the golden light Which weaves its way through the e… At my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…