#EnglishWriters Modern
Since you did depart Out of my reach, my darling, Into the hidden, I see each shadow start With recognition, and I
How many times, like lotus lilies… Upon the surface of a river, there Have risen floating on my blood th… Soft glimmers of my hope escaped f… So I am clothed all over with the…
Tell me a word that you’ve often heard, yet it makes you squint when you see it in print! Tell me a thing
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…
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,
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.
I saw the midlands Revolve through her hair; The fields of autumn Stretching bare, And sheep on the pasture
Delicate mother Kangaroo Sitting up there rabbit—wise, but… And lifting her beautiful slender… gently and finely lined than a rab… Lifting her face to nibble at a ro…
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…
See the stars, love, In the water much clearer and brig… Than those above us, and whiter, Like nenuphars. Star—shadows shine, love,
Now I am come again, you who have… My coming, why do you look away fr… Why does your cheek burn against m… Such anger as sets your mouth unwo… Ah, here I sit while you break th…
I wonder if with you, as it is wit… If under your slipping words, that… About you as a garment, easily, Your violent heart beats to and fr… Long have I waited, never once co…
I wish it were spring in the world… Let it be spring! Come, bubbling, surging tide of sa… Come, rush of creation! Come, life! surge through this mas…
Do you remember How night after night swept level… Overhead, at home, and had not one… Nor one narrow gate for the moon t… Forth to her field of November.
The quick sparks on the gorse bush… Little jets of sunlight—texture im… Above them, exultant, the peewits… They are lords of the desolate was… Rabbits, handfuls of brown earth,…
