#EnglishWriters
Kind o’er the kinderbank leans my… White o’er the playpen the sheen o… Fresh from the bathroom and soft i… Soap scented fingers I long to ca… Were you a prefect and head of you…
To a shady retreat in the reeds and rushes of the River Ches. ‘It’s the trees, the fairy dingles, and a hundred and one things in which dame nature’s fingers have lingered long in setti...
The kind old face, the egg-shaped… The tie, discretely loud, The loosely fitting shooting cloth… A closely fitting shroud. He liked old city dining rooms,
How did the Devil come? When firs… These Norfolk lanes recall lost i… The years fall off and find me wal… Dragging a stick along the wooden… Down this same path, where, forty…
Highbridge wharf your hopes have d… They float like driftwood down the… Out, out into the open sea Oh, sad, forgotten S and D
High dormers are rising So sharp and surprising, And ponticum edges The driveways of gravel; Stone houses from ledges
The clock is frozen in the tower, The thickening fog with sooty smel… Has blanketed the motor power Which turns the London streets to… And footsteps with their lonely so…
Dr Ramsden cannot read The Times… He’s dead. Let monographs on silk worms by ot… Thrown away Unread
In among the silver birches, Winding ways of tarmac wander And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Break. Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches
Bells are booming down the bohreen… White the mist along the grass, Now the Julias, Maeves and Maure… Move between the fields to Mass. Twisted trees of small green apple
The sleepy sound of a tea-time tid… Slaps at the rocks the sun has dri… Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift Round low peninsulas pink with thr… The water, enlarging shells and sa…
I am a young executive. No cuffs… I have a Slimline brief-case and… In every roadside hostelry from he… The maîtres d’hôtel all know me we… You ask me what it is I do. Well,…
Across the wet November night The church is bright with candleli… And waiting Evensong. A single bell with plaintive strok… Pleads louder than the stirring oa…
The last year’s leaves are on the… The twigs are black; the cold is d… To deeps beyond the deepest reach The Easter bells enlarge the sky. O ordered metal clatter-clang!
How straight it flew, how long it… It clear’d the rutty track And soaring, disappeared from view Beyond the bunker’s back - A glorious, sailing, bounding driv…