#English
Suddenly, out of dark and leafy wa… We came upon the little house asle… In cold blind stillness, shadowles… In the white magic of the full moo… Strangers without the gate, we sto…
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…
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…
“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
“I cannot quite remember.... Ther… Dropt dead beside me in the trench… Whispered their dying messages to… Back from the trenches, more dead… Stone-deaf and dazed, and with a b…
Into the twilight of Trafalgar Sq… They pour from every quarter, bang… And tootling penny trumpets: to a… Of tin mouth-organs, while a sailo… A solitary banjo, lads and girls,
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…
When consciousness came back, he f… Between the opposing fires, but co… On which hand were his friends; an… For him to turn was chancy—bullet… Whistling and shrieking over him,…
YOUTH that goes woolgathering, Mooning and stargazing, Always finding everything Full of fresh amazing, Best will meet the moment’s need
HER day out from the workhouse-wa… A grey-haired woman, decent and pr… With prim black bonnet and neat pa… Among the other children by the st… And with grave relish eats a penny…
In each black tile a mimic fire’s… And in the hearthlight old mahogan… Ripe with stored sunshine that in… Poured like gold wine into the liv… Summer on summer through a century…
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 gave him a shilling, They gave him a gun; And so he’s gone killing The Germans, my son. I dream of that shilling—
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…
