#EnglishWriters
Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colors wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks
Our hunting fathers told the story Of the sadness of the creatures, Pitied the limits and the lack Set in their finished features; Saw in the lion’s intolerant look,
Sir, no man’s enemy, forgiving all But will his negative inversion, b… Send to us power and light, a sove… Curing the intolerable neural itch… The exhaustion of weaning, the lia…
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,
A cloudless night like this Can set the spirit soaring: After a tiring day The clockwork spectacle is Impressive in a slightly boring
We, too, had known golden hours When body and soul were in tune, Had danced with our true loves By the light of a full moon, And sat with the wise and good
And the traveller hopes: “Let me… Physician”; and the ports have nam… The citiless, the corroding, the s… And North means to all: “Reject”. And the great plains are for ever…
When shall we learn, what should b… We cannot choose what we are free… Although the mouse we banished yes… Is an enraged rhinoceros today, Our value is more threatened than…
At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end, the delicious story is ripe to tel… to tell to the intimate friend; over the tea-cups and into the squ…
Each lover has some theory of his… About the difference between the a… Of being with his love, and being… Why what, when dreaming, is dear f… That really stirs the senses, when…
The piers are pummelled by the wav… In a lonely field the rain Lashes an abandoned train; Outlaws fill the mountain caves. Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
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…
That night when joy began Our narrowest veins to flush, We waited for the flash Of morning’s levelled gun. But morning let us pass,
Among pelagian travelers, Lost on their lewd conceited way To Massachusetts, Michigan, Miami or L.A., An airborne instrument I sit,
Perfection, of a kind, was what he… And the poetry he invented was eas… He knew human folly like the back… And was greatly interested in armi… When he laughed, respectable senat…