#EnglishWriters
Encase your legs in nylons, Bestride your hills with pylons O age without a soul; Away with gentle willows And all the elmy billows
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
Up the ash tree climbs the ivy, Up the ivy climbs the sun, With a twenty-thousand pattering, Has a valley breeze begun, Feathery ash, neglected elder,
The last year’s leaves are on the… The twigs are black; the cold is d… To deeps beyond the deepest reach The Easter bells enlarge the sky. O ordered metal clatter-clang!
Cocooned in Time, at this inhuman… The packaged food tastes neutrally… We never seem to catch the running… But travel on in everlasting night With all the chic accoutrements of…
Cut down that timber! Bells, too… Pouring their music through the br… From moon-white church-towers down… Have pealed the centuries out with… Remove those cottages, a huddled t…
Here among long-discarded cassocks… Damp stools, and half-split open h… Here where the vicar never looks I nibble through old service books… Lean and alone I spend my days
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…
To a shady retreat in the reeds and rushes of the River Ches. ‘It’s the trees, the fairy dingles, and a hundred and one things in which dame nature’s fingers have lingered long in setti...
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…
Those moments, tasted once and nev… Of long surf breaking in the mid-d… A far-off blow—hole booming like a… The seagulls plane and circle out… Below this thirsty, thrift-encrust…
From Bermondsey to Wandsworth So many churches are, Some with apsidal chancels, Some Perpendicular And schools by E.R. Robson
She died in the upstairs bedroom By the light of the ev’ning star That shone through the plate glass… From over Leamington Spa Beside her the lonely crochet
The clock is frozen in the tower, The thickening fog with sooty smel… Has blanketed the motor power Which turns the London streets to… And footsteps with their lonely so…
How did the Devil come? When firs… These Norfolk lanes recall lost i… The years fall off and find me wal… Dragging a stick along the wooden… Down this same path, where, forty…