#EnglishWriters
What large, dark hands are those a… Grasping in the golden light Which weaves its way through the e… At my heart’s delight? Ah, only the leaves! But in the w…
There is nothing to save, now all… but a tiny core of stillness in th… like the eye of a violet.
Reject me not if I should say to… I do forget the sounding of your v… I do forget your eyes that searchi… The mists perceive our marriage, a… Yet, when the apple—blossom opens…
My little love, my darling, You were a doorway to me; You let me out of the confines Into this strange countrie, Where people are crowded like this…
THE cuckoo and the coo-dove’s cea… Calling, Of a meaningless monotony is palli… All my morning’s pleasure in the s… May-blossom and blue bird’s-eye fl…
Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and su… Of linen, go the chanting choriste… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…
The sick grapes on the chair by th… The tassel of the blind swings gen… As a little wind comes in. The room is the hollow rind of a f… Scooped out and dry, where a spide…
We’ve made a great mess of love Since we made an ideal of it. The moment I swear to love a woma… That moment I begin to hate her. The moment I even say to a woman:…
The morning breaks like a pomegran… In a shining crack of red, Ah, when tomorrow the dawn comes l… Whitening across the bed, It will find me watching at the ma…
I wish it were spring in the world… Let it be spring! Come, bubbling, surging tide of sa… Come, rush of creation! Come, life! surge through this mas…
You know what it is to be born alo… Baby tortoise! The first day to heave your feet l… Not yet awake, And remain lapsed on earth,
There are four men mowing down by… I can hear the swish of the scythe… Sharp breaths taken: yea, and I Am sorry for what’s in store. The first man out of the four that…
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…
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead… without ever having felt sorry for…
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,