#EnglishWriters
The flag that hung half-mast today Seemed animate with being As if it knew for who it flew And will no more be seeing. He loved each corner of the links–
When melancholy Autumn comes to W… And electric trains are lighted af… The poplars near the stadium are t… With their tap and tap and whisper… Like the sound of little breakers
The sleepy sound of a tea-time tid… Slaps at the rocks the sun has dri… Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift Round low peninsulas pink with thr… The water, enlarging shells and sa…
I remember the dread with which I… Let go with a bang behind me our h… And, clutching a present for my de… Sailed out for the children’s part… Or rather the gathering night. Fo…
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
The kind old face, the egg-shaped… The tie, discretely loud, The loosely fitting shooting cloth… A closely fitting shroud. He liked old city dining rooms,
The gas was on in the Institute, The flare was up in the gym, A man was running a mineral line, A lass was singing a hymn, When Captain Webb the Dawley man…
From Bermondsey to Wandsworth So many churches are, Some with apsidal chancels, Some Perpendicular And schools by E.R. Robson
The sea runs back against itself With scarcely time for breaking wa… To cannonade a slatey shelf And thunder under in a cave. Before the next can fully burst
Hark, I hear the bells of Westgat… I will tell you what they sigh, Where those minarets and steeples Prick the open Thanet sky. Happy bells of eighteen-ninety,
From the geyser ventilators Autumn winds are blowing down On a thousand business women Having baths in Camden Town Waste pipes chuckle into runnels,
High dormers are rising So sharp and surprising, And ponticum edges The driveways of gravel; Stone houses from ledges
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…
Golden haired and golden hearted I would ever have you be, As you were when last we parted Smiling slow and sad at me. Oh! the fighting down of passion!
The sort of girl I like to see Smiles down from her great height… She stands in strong, athletic pos… And wrinkles her retroussé nose. Is it distaste that makes her frow…
