Poem From London, 1941. (George Woodcock Poems)
The fading whistles outline our broken cityAgainst the dead chart and distant zodiac,Against the decaying roads, empty and perilous,That join ...
The fading whistles outline our broken cityAgainst the dead chart and distant zodiac,Against the decaying roads, empty and perilous,That join ...
Never can spring be known so wellAs in this wicked dark December,Nor touched-all emerald and limber-As in this winter citadel.The ...
A hundred mares, all white! their manesLike mace-reed of the marshy plainsThick-tufted, wavy, free o' the ...
Were I not a patriot, which of course I am, I would explain just how the term remains a sticking ...
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