The Whitsun Weddings (Philip Larkin Poem)
That Whitsun, I was late getting away: Not till about One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three-quarters-empty train pull ...
That Whitsun, I was late getting away: Not till about One-twenty on the sunlit Saturday Did my three-quarters-empty train pull ...
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, He, the handsome Yenadizze, Whom the people called the Storm-Fool, Vexed the village with disturbance; ...
There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen Their baaing vanities, to browse away ...
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual ...
ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. Book ...
He travels after a winter sun, Urging the cattle along a cold red road, Calling to them, a voice they ...
SHE has gone,-- she has left us in passion and pride,-- Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side! She ...
[From the Morlack.) WHAT is yonder white thing in the forest? Is it snow, or can it swans perchance be? ...
And an orator said, "Speak to us of Freedom." And he answered: At the city gate and by your fireside ...
A season coming marked by ashes, solemn gray, balck marks of a cross, a smudge, imprinted merging with oil, with ...
THE worst of ills, with jealousy compared, Are trifling torments ev'ry where declared. IMAGINE, to yourself a silly fool, To ...
A few grains of dust more or less On ancient shoulders Locks of weakness on weary foreheads This theatre of ...
In Ebon Box, when years have flown To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there! To ...
I suppose you could call me heartless as a dull anvil clanking in a sodden barn, the damp wood too ...
So much I gazed on beauty, that my vision is replete with it. Contours of the body. Red lips. Voluptuous ...
The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth, And June its roses--showers and ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis. They grew their toes and fingers well enough, Their little foreheads ...
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which ...
I Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us . . . Wearied we keep awake ...
To-day the woods are trembling through and through With shimmering forms, that flash before my view, Then melt in green ...
Chapter I. Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night, ...
Look at them standing there in authority The pale-faces, As if it could have any effect any more. Pale-face authority, ...
A chant to which it is intended a group of children shall dance and improvise pantomime led by their dancing-teacher. ...
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