#EnglishWriters Modern
The darkness steals the forms of a… But oh, the palms of his two black… Inflamed with binding up the sheav… Hours that were once all glory and… And I remember all the sunny hour…
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping the golden light Which weaves its way through the c… To my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…
Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting… I despise that self—important game… Thought is the welling up of unkno… Thought is the testing of statemen…
Ah, you stack of white lilies, all… A am adrift as a sunbeam, and with… Or having, save I light on you to… Your pallor into radiance, flush y… White beauty into incandescence: y…
Outside the house an ash—tree hung… And at night when the wind arose,… Shrieked and slashed the wind, as… Weird rigging in a storm shrieks h… Within the house two voices arose…
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,…
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,
I wonder, can the night go by; Can this shot arrow of travel fly Shaft—golden with light, sheer int… Of a dawned to—morrow, Without ever sleep delivering us
People were bathing and posturing… and all was dreary, great robot li… robot voices, robot even the gay u… But a woman, shy and alone, was wa… lilies, and like water—lilies.
As a drenched, drowned bee Hangs numb and heavy from a bendin… So clings to me My baby, her brown hair brushed wi… And laid against her cheek;
I saw the midlands Revolve through her hair; The fields of autumn Stretching bare, And sheep on the pasture
The little pansies by the road hav… Away their purple faces and their… And evening has taken all the bees… And all the scent is shed away by… Against the hard and pale blue eve…
Even iron can put forth, Even iron. This is the iron age, But let us take heart Seeing iron break and bud,
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
Why does the thin grey strand Floating up from the forgotten Cigarette between my fingers, Why does it trouble me? Ah, you will understand;
