#EnglishWriters
Ours yet not ours, being set apart As a shrine to friendship, Empty and silent most of the year, This room awaits from you What you alone, as visitor, can br…
Victor was a little baby, Into this world he came; His father took him on his knee an… 'Don’t dishonour the family name.' Victor looked up at his father
Again in conversations Speaking of fear And throwing off reserve The voice is nearer But no clearer
Each lover has some theory of his… About the difference between the a… Of being with his love, and being… Why what, when dreaming, is dear f… That really stirs the senses, when…
When there are so many we shall ha… when grief has been made so public… to the critique of a whole epoch the frailty of our conscience and… of whom shall we speak? For every…
Sharp and silent in the Clear October lighting Of a Sunday morning The great city lies; And I at a window
Let a florid music praise, The flute and the trumpet, Beauty’s conquest of your face: In that land of flesh and bone, Where from citadels on high
He looked in all His wisdom from… Down on that humble boy who kept t… And sent a dove; the dove returned… Youth liked the music, but soon fe… But He had planned such future fo…
Eyes look into the well, Tears run down from the eye; The tower cracked and fell From the quiet winter sky. Under a midnight stone
Some say love’s a little boy, And some say it’s a bird, Some say it makes the world go aro… Some say that’s absurd, And when I asked the man next—doo…
This is the night mail crossing th… Bringing the cheque and the postal… Letters for the rich, letters for… The shop at the corner, the girl n… Pulling up Beattock, a steady cli…
Over the heather the wet wind blow… I’ve lice in my tunic and a cold i… The rain comes pattering out of th… I’m a Wall soldier, I don’t know… The mist creeps over the hard grey…
Say this city has ten million soul… Some are living in mansions, some… Yet there’s no place for us, my de… Once we had a country and we thoug… Look in the atlas and you’ll find…
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colors wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks
My dear one is mine as mirrors are… As the poor and sad are real to th… And the high green hill sits alway… Up jumped the Black Man behind th… Turned a somersault and ran away w…
