Whatever Happened? (Philip Larkin Poem)
At once whatever happened starts receding. Panting, and back on board, we line the rail With trousers ripped, light wallets, ...
At once whatever happened starts receding. Panting, and back on board, we line the rail With trousers ripped, light wallets, ...
The Four Archangels, so the legends tell, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, Being first of those to whom the Power was ...
Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack, remained fluttering in the flames for some time, but ultimately when ...
'My father still reads the dictionary every day. He says your life depends on your power to master words.' Arthur ...
Shall we conceal the Case, or tell it - We who believe the evidence? Here and there the watch-towers knell ...
I have put on my great coat it is cold. It is an outer garment. Coarse, woolen. Of unknown origin. ...
The words, these holy, hope-filled words so hard to internalize, to really fathom a heavenly perspective on human life letting ...
Undue Significance a starving man attaches To Food -- Far off -- He sighs -- and therefore -- Hopeless -- ...
Not any more to be lacked -- Not any more to be known -- Denizen of Significance For a span ...
No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit -- I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection -- does -- Circumference be full ...
Denial -- is the only fact Perceived by the Denied -- Whose Will -- a numb significance -- The Day ...
Because that you are going And never coming back And I, however absolute, May overlook your Track -- Because that ...
A Diamond on the Hand To Custom Common grown Subsides from its significance The Gem were best unknown -- Within ...
I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And ...
The mystery of a smile that glows within your eyes and is framed in an innocent countenance passes not unheeded. ...
THE PUDDING MASTER OF STANLEY BASIN Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the lake promised us ...
I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave! You need not clap your torches to my face. Zooks, what's to ...
I said I will find what is lowly and put the roots of my identity down there: each day I'll ...
NOW, by the verdure on thy thousand hills, Beloved England, doth the earth appear Quite good enough for men to ...
We sow the glebe, we reap the corn, We build the house where we may rest, And then, at moments, ...
The night is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, ...
You have become a forge of snow-white fire, A crucible of molten steel, O France! Your sons are stars who ...
The doctor fingers my bruise. "Magnificent," he says, "black at the edges and purple cored." Seated, he spies for clues, ...
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats. Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields, My large unjealous Loves, many yet one -- ...
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