#EnglishWriters Modern
Yours is the shame and sorrow, But the disgrace is mine; Your love was dark and thorough, Mine was the love of the sun for a… He creates with his shine.
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff… No, not even sniff at her, his nos… Only he senses the vulnerable fold… That work beneath her while she sp…
A wind comes from the north Blowing little flocks of birds Like spray across the town, And a train, roaring forth, Rushes stampeding down
The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun… The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black… Sweep past the window again. Along the vacant road, a red
Out of the darkness, fretted somet… Jets of sparks in fountains of blu… To sight, revealing a secret, numb… Sometimes the darkness trapped wit… Runs into speed like a dream, the…
It ought to be lovely to be old to be full of the peace that comes… and wrinkled ripe fulfilment. The wrinkled smile of completeness… lived undaunted and unsoured with…
THE clouds are pushing in grey re… While north of them all, at the fa… With fire as it guards the wild no… The rocks where ravens flying to w… You should be out by the orchard,…
The dawn was apple-green, The sky was green wine held up in… The moon was a golden petal betwee… She opened her eyes, and green They shone, clear like flowers und…
Since I lost you, my darling, the… And I am of it, the small sharp s… The white moon going among them li… And the sound of her gently rustli… And I am willing to come to you n…
The shorn moon trembling indistinc… Frail as a scar upon the pale blue… Draws towards the downward slope:… Worn her down to the quick, so she… Along her foot—searched way withou…
Too far away, oh love, I know, To save me from this haunted road, Whose lofty roses break and blow On a night—sky bent with a load Of lights: each solitary rose,
The train in running across the we… So even, it beats like silence, an… Embrace of darkness lie around, an… And littered lettering of leaves a… The open book of landscape no more…
Search for nothing any more, nothi… except truth. Be very still, and try and get at… And the first question to ask your… How great a liar am I?
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping in the yellow lig… Which makes its way through the cu… At my heart to—night? Ah, only the leaves! So leave me…
She is large and matronly And rather dirty, A little sardonic—looking, as if d… Though what she does, except lay f… And put up with her husband,
