#EnglishWriters
Bells are booming down the bohreen… White the mist along the grass, Now the Julias, Maeves and Maure… Move between the fields to Mass. Twisted trees of small green apple
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...
The heavy mahogany door with its w… Shuts. And the sound is rich, sym… The sun still shines on this eight… With Edwardian faience adornment—… No hope. And the X-ray photograph…
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
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–
High dormers are rising So sharp and surprising, And ponticum edges The driveways of gravel; Stone houses from ledges
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…
Isn’t she lovely, “the Mistress”? With her wide-apart grey-green eye… The droop of her lips and, when sh… Her glance of amused surprise? How nonchalantly she wears her clo…
In uniform behold me stand, The lovely lift at my command. I press the button: Pop, And down I go below the town; The walls rise up as I go down
Gaily into Ruislip Gardens Runs the red electric train, With a thousand Ta’s and Pardon’s Daintily alights Elaine; Hurries down the concrete station
Encase your legs in nylons, Bestride your hills with pylons O age without a soul; Away with gentle willows And all the elmy billows
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!
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
How straight it flew, how long it… It clear’d the rutty track And soaring, disappeared from view Beyond the bunker’s back - A glorious, sailing, bounding driv…
The bells of waiting Advent ring, The Tortoise stove is lit again And lamp-oil light across the nigh… Has caught the streaks of winter r… In many a stained-glass window she…