#EnglishWriters
A big bud of moon hangs out of the… Star—spiders spinning their thread Hang high suspended, withouten res… Watching us overhead. Come then under the trees, where t…
As we live, we are transmitters of… And when we fail to transmit life,… That is part of the mystery of sex… Sexless people transmit nothing. And if, as we work, we can transmi…
Forever nameless Forever unknwon Forever unconceived Forever unrepresented yet forever felt in the soul.
The pine-trees bend to listen to t… Something which sets the black pop… While slowly the house of day is c… Further down the valley the cluste… Winding about their dimness the mi…
It is stormy, and raindrops cling… The thin sycamores in the playgrou… The heads of the boys move dimly t… The class; over them all the dark… It is no good, dear, gentleness an…
Don’t you care for my love? she sa… I handed her the mirror, and said: Please address these questions to… Please make all requests to head—q… In all matters of emotional import…
My love looks like a girl to—night… But she is old. The plaits that lie along her pill… Are not gold, But threaded with filigree silver,
What large, dark hands are those a… Lifted, grasping the golden light Which weaves its way through the c… To my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…
And all hours long, the town Roars like a beast in a cave That is wounded there And like to drown; While days rush, wave after wave
Butterfly, the wind blows sea—ward… strong beyond the garden—wall! Butterfly, why do you settle on my shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe, Lifting your veined wings, lifting…
I have opened the window to warm m… Where the sunlight soaks in the st… Is full of dreams, my love, the bo… In a wistful dream of Lorna Doone… The clink of the shunting engines…
WHEN into the night the yellow l… Or like a mist the moon has kissed… Our faces flower for a little hour… Daisies that waken all mistaken wh… The luminous mist which the poor t…
The moon is broken in twain, and h… Before me lies on the still, pale… The other half of the broken coin… Is buried away in the dark, where… They buried her half in the grave…
THE houses fade in a melt of mist Blotching the thick, soiled air With reddish places that still res… The Night’s slow care. The hopeless, wintry twilight fade…
At evening, sitting on this terrac… When the sun from the west, beyond… Departs, and the world is taken by… When the tired flower of Florence… Brown hills surrounding...