#EnglishWriters
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…
Being set on the idea Of getting to Atlantis, You have discovered of course Only the Ship of Fools is Making the voyage this year,
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…
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colors wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks
Look, stranger, at this island now The leaping light for your delight… Stand stable here And silent be, That through the channels of the e…
Perfection, of a kind, was what he… And the poetry he invented was eas… He knew human folly like the back… And was greatly interested in armi… When he laughed, respectable senat…
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…
Nobody I know would like to be bu… with a silver cocktail-shaker, a transistor radio and a strangled daily help, or keep his word becau… of a great-great-grandmother who g…
Ares at last has quit the field, The bloodstains on the bushes yiel… To seeping showers, And in their convalescent state The fractured towns associate
Again in conversations Speaking of fear And throwing off reserve The voice is nearer But no clearer
As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river
Not as that dream Napoleon, rumou… Before who’s riding all the crowds… Who dedicates a column and withdra… Nor as that general favourite and… To whom the weather and the ruins…
Encased in talent like a uniform, The rank of every poet is well kno… They can amaze us like a thunderst… Or die so young, or live for years… They can dash forward like hussars…
“O who can ever gaze his fill,” Farmer and fisherman say, “On native shore and local hill, Grudge aching limb or callus on th… Father, grandfather stood upon thi…
Deftly, admiral, cast your fly Into the slow deep hover, Till the wise old trout mistake an… Salt are the deeps that cover The glittering fleets you led,