#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…
When we were building Skua Light— The first men who had lived a nigh… Upon that deep-sea Isle— As soon as chisel touched the ston… The friendly seals would come asho…
A HANDFUL of cherries She gave me in passing, The wizened old woman, And wished me good luck– And again I was dreaming,
We who are left, how shall we look… Happily on the sun or feel the rai… Without remembering how they who w… Ungrudgingly and spent Their lives for us loved, too, the…
AS one, at midnight, wakened by t… Of golden-plovers in their seaward… Who lies and listens, as the clear… Through tingling silence of the fr… Who lies and listens, till the las…
When the plane dived and the machi… The deck, in his numb clutch the t… Bucked madly as he strove to keep… Zig-zagging, that was all that mat… To keep the ship zig-zagging endle…
We ate our breakfast lying on our… Because the shells were screeching… I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread That Hull United would beat Hali… When Jimmy Stainthorpe played ful…
“Only just one plane lost”– the su… broadcasts the news of the success… and the lone mother knitting by th… Trembles, afraid, As in her anguished sight
Somewhere, somewhen I’ve seen, But where or when I’ll never know… Parrots of shrilly green With crests of shriller scarlet fl… Out of black cedars as the sun was…
And since he rowed his father home… His hand has never touched an oar. All day he wanders on the shore, And hearkens to the swishing foam. Though blind from birth, he still…
A blue-black Nubian plucking oran… At Jaffa by a sea of malachite, In red tarboosh, green sash, and f… Burnous—among the shadowy memories That haunt me yet by these bleak n…
AS I was marching in Flanders A ghost kept step with me— Kept step with me and chuckled And muttered ceaselessly: “Once I too marched in Flanders,
They ask me where I’ve been, And what I’ve done and seen. But what can I reply Who know it wasn’t I, But someone just like me,
All night under the moon Plovers are flying Over the dreaming meadows of silve… Over the meadows of June, Flying and crying—
Here on the ridge where the shrill… Low clouds along the snow And in a streaming moonlit vapour… The peopled earth below. Let me, O life, a little while fo…
