#EnglishWriters
A cloudless night like this Can set the spirit soaring: After a tiring day The clockwork spectacle is Impressive in a slightly boring
He disappeared in the dead of wint… The brooks were frozen, the airpor… And snow disfigured the public sta… The mercury sank in the mouth of t… What instruments we have agree
Among pelagian travelers, Lost on their lewd conceited way To Massachusetts, Michigan, Miami or L.A., An airborne instrument I sit,
Doom is dark and deeper than any s… Upon what man it fall In spring, day-wishing flowers app… Avalanche sliding, white snow from… That he should leave his house,
Some say love’s a little boy, And some say it’s a bird, Some say it makes the world go aro… Some say that’s absurd, And when I asked the man next—doo…
Lady, weeping at the crossroads, Would you meet your love In the twilight with his greyhound… And the hawk on his glove? Bribe the birds then on the branch…
Out of a bellicose fore-time, thun… head-on collisions of cloud and ro… up-thrust, crevasse-and-avalanche,… deadly to breathers, it whelms into our picture below t…
He was found by the Bureau of Sta… One against whom there was no offi… And all the reports on his conduct… That, in the modern sense of an ol… saint,
If all a top physicist knows About the Truth be true, Then, for all the so-and-so’s, Futility and grime, Our common world contains,
“O who can ever gaze his fill,” Farmer and fisherman say, “On native shore and local hill, Grudge aching limb or callus on th… Father, grandfather stood upon thi…
Clocks cannot tell our time of day For what event to pray Because we have no time, because We have no time until We know what time we fill,
Say this city has ten million soul… Some are living in mansions, some… Yet there’s no place for us, my de… Once we had a country and we thoug… Look in the atlas and you’ll find…
First Things First Woken, I lay in the arms of my ow… To a storm enjoying its storminess… Till my ear, as it can when half-a… Set to work to unscramble that int…
Some thirty inches from my nose The frontier of my Person goes, And all the untilled air between Is private pagus or demesne. Stranger, unless with bedroom eyes
Underneath an abject willow, Lover, sulk no more: Act from thought should quickly fo… What is thinking for? Your unique and moping station