#English #WarWriters #XXCentury
Bodies of comrade soldiers gleamin… Within the mill-pool where you flo… And lounge around part-clothed or… Beautiful shining forms of men ali… O living lutes stringed with the s…
I CAN NOT give you happiness: For wishes long have ceased to bri… The Fortune which to page and kin… They brought in those good centuri… When with a quaint and starry wand
No mortal comes to visit me to-day… Only the gay and early-rising Sun Who strolled in nonchalantly, just… ‘ Good morrow, and despair not, fo… But like the tune which comforted…
Big glory mellowing on the mellowi… And in the Uttle valleys, thatch… Wrought by the manifold and vagran… Of sun and ripening rain and wind… My country, that great magic cup w…
A man there was, a gentle soul, Of mild enquiring mind, Who came into this neighbourhood Its wonders for to find [ … ] They told him who had put the lid
How should I sing you?—you who dw… Within the darkest chamber of my h… What picturesque and inward-turnin… Could shadow forth the image of my… Sweet, world aloof, ineffably sere…
God dreamed a man; Then, having firmly shut Life like a precious metal in his… Withdrew, His labour done. Thus d… Our various divinity and sin.
I’m homesick for my hills again - My hills again! To see above the Severn plain, Unscabbarded against the sky, The blue high blade of Cotswold l…
Oh pleasant things there be Without this prison yard: Fields green, and many a tree With shadow on the sward, And drifting clouds that pass
Dear, rash, warm-hearted friend. So careless of the end, So worldly-foolish, so divinely-wi… Who, caring not one jot For place, gave all you’d got
Sometimes ’tis far off, and someti… Such drummerdery noises too they b… ’Tis odd—oh, I do hope I baint to… Just as the summer months be comin… And buffly chicken out, and bumble…
Walking round our cages like the l… Zoo, We think of things that we have do… we mean to do: Of girls we left behind us, of let…
Outside, white snow And freezing mire. The heart of the house Is a blazing fire! Even so whatever hags do ride
Moth-like at night you flit or fly To where the other patients lie ; I hear, as you brush by my door The flutter of your wings, no more… Shall I now call you in and see
In general, if you want a man to d… Say, swim the Channel, climb St.… The Bank of England, why, you fin… Than if you merely wanted him to l… But in the British Army, it’s jus…