#EnglishWriters
I WONDER if the old cow died or… Gey bad she was the night I left,… Dick reckoned she would mend. He… At least he fancies so himself, do… Dick knows a lot. But maybe I did…
A HANDFUL of cherries She gave me in passing, The wizened old woman, And wished me good luck– And again I was dreaming,
Through the pale green forest of t… Whose interwoven fronds, a jade-gr… Above me glimmer, infinitely high, Towards my giant hand a beetle wal… In glistening emerald mail; and as…
YOUTH that goes woolgathering, Mooning and stargazing, Always finding everything Full of fresh amazing, Best will meet the moment’s need
In dream, again within the clean,… Of glazed and aching silence he wa… And, closing in, the blank walls o… Crushed stifling on him . . . when… Caught in his clutching fingers; a…
AMONG bleak hills of mounded sla… 'Neath sullen evening skies that s… O’er burdened by the belching smok… Upon their aching foreheads, dense… Till both felt youth within them f…
I could not understand the sudden… The sudden darkness—in the crash o… The din and glare of day quenched… In utter starless night. I lay an age and idly gazed at not…
This bloody steel Has killed a man. I heard him squeal As on I ran. He watched me come
I SOMETIMES wonder if it’s re… I ever knew Another life Than this unending strife With unseen enemies in lowland mud…
Your face was lifted to the golden… Ablaze beyond the black roofs of t… As flame on flame leapt, flourishi… Its tumult of red stars exultantly To the cold constellations dim and…
All night under the moon Plovers are flying Over the dreaming meadows of silve… Over the meadows of June, Flying and crying—
Stuck in a bottle on the window-si… In the cold gaslight burning gaily… Against the luminous blue of Lond… These flowers are mine: while some… In some black-throated alley’s ste…
He’d even have his joke While we were sitting tight, And so he needs must poke His silly head in sight To whisper some new jest
Who is that woman, Philip, standi… Before the mirror doing up her hai… You’re dreaming, Phœbe, or the mo… Mixing and mingling with the dying… Makes shapes out of the darkness,…
He’s gone. I do not understand. I only know That as he turned to go And waved his hand,