#EnglishWriters
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…
Those long uneven lines Standing as patiently As if they were stretched outside The Oval or Villa Park, The crowns of hats, the sun
This is the first thing I have understood: Time is the echo of an axe Within a wood.
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…
That Whitsun, I was late getting… Not till about One—twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three—quarters—empty train… All windows down, all cushions hot…
At one the wind rose, And with it the noise Of the black poplars. Long since had the living By a thin twine
You do not come dramatically, with… That rear up with my life between… And dash me butchered down beside… The horses panicking; nor as a cla… Clearly set out to warn what can b…
At last you yielded up the album,… Once open, sent me distracted. Al… Matt and glossy on the thick black… Too much confectionery, too rich: I choke on such nutritious images.
Side by side, their faces blurred, The earl and countess lie in stone… Their proper habits vaguely shown As jointed armour, stiffened pleat… And that faint hint of the absurd—
Caught in the center of a soundles… While hot inexplicable hours go by What trap is this? Where were its… You seem to ask. I make a sharp reply,
New eyes each year Find old books here, And new books, too, Old eyes renew; So youth and age
My mother, who hates thunder storm… Holds up each summer day and shake… It out suspiciously, lest swarms Of grape—dark clouds are lurking t… But when the August weather break…
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 little lives of earth and form… Of finding food, and keeping warm, Are not like ours, and yet A kinship lingers nonetheless: We hanker for the homeliness