#English #XXCentury
Down stucco sidestreets, Where light is pewter And afternoon mist Brings lights on in shops Above race—guides and rosaries,
I work all day, and get half-drunk… Waking at four to soundless dark,… In time the curtain-edges will gro… Till then I see what’s really alw… Unresting death, a whole day neare…
The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief… Is it that they are born again
Tightly-folded bud, I have wished you something None of the others would: Not the usual stuff About being beautiful,
In this dream that dogs me I am p… Of a silent crowd walking under a… Leaving a football match, perhaps,… All moving the same way. After a… A second wall closes on our right,
Groping back to bed after a piss I part thick curtains, and am star… The rapid clouds, the moon’s clean… Four o’clock: wedge-shadowed garde… Under a cavernous, a wind-picked s…
The eye can hardly pick them out From the cold shade they shelter i… Till wind distresses tail and main… Then one crops grass, and moves ab… —The other seeming to look on—
They say eyes clear with age, As dew clarifies air To sharpen evenings, As if time put an edge Round the last shape of things
On the day of the explosion Shadows pointed towards the pithea… In the sun the slagheap slept. Down the lane came men in pitboots Coughing oath-edged talk and pipe-…
Delay, well, travellers must expec… Delay. For how long? No one seems… With all the luggage weighed, the… It can’t be long... We amble too… Sit in steel chairs, buy cigarette…
Waiting for breakfast, while she b… I looked down at the empty hotel y… Once meant for coaches. Cobblesto… But sent no light back to the load… Sunk as it was with mist down to t…
To step over the low wall that div… Road from concrete walk above the… Brings sharply back something know… The miniature gaiety of seasides. Everything crowds under the low ho…
Lambs that learn to walk in snow When their bleating clouds the air Meet a vast unwelcome, know Nothing but a sunless glare. Newly stumbling to and fro
Tired of a landscape known too wel… The deliberate shallow hills, the… Flying past rocks; tired of rememb… The village children and their nau… He abandoned his small holding and…
Once I am sure there’s nothing go… I step inside, letting the door th… Another church: matting, seats, an… And little books; sprawlings of fl… For Sunday, brownish now; some br…