#EnglishWriters
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
Across the wet November night The church is bright with candleli… And waiting Evensong. A single bell with plaintive strok… Pleads louder than the stirring oa…
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!
Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Miss J.Hunt… Furnish’d and burnish’d by Alders… What strenuous singles we played a… We in the tournament - you against… Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakn…
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…
Phone for the fish knives, Norman As cook is a little unnerved; You kiddies have crumpled the serv… And I must have things daintily s… Are the requisites all in the toil…
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…
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 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 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…
Come, friendly bombs, and fall on… It isn’t fit for humans now, There isn’t grass to graze a cow Swarm over, Death! Come, bombs, and blow to smitheree…
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…
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
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
In the licorice fields at Pontefr… My love and I did meet And many a burdened licorice bush Was blooming round our feet; Red hair she had and golden skin,
