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 ...
The piper coming from far away is you With a whitewash brush for a sporran Wobbling round you, a kitchen ...
In Memory of one of the Writer's Family who was a Volunteer during the War with Napoleon In a ferny ...
As I drive to the junction of lane and highway, And the drizzle bedrenches the waggonette, I look behind at ...
Not like summer hot humidity a coolness of spring light on the air Yet the sounds, the motion the waking ...
A question, pregnant on our lips the extent of the devastation the cost of the earthquake in that impoverished land ...
I remember those last few moments as your breathing slowed, no longer labored she on the side of your bed, ...
Complete silence, quiet in the sanctuary lights dimmed and heart rates slowed heads bowed in silent, singular, personal prayer hushed ...
Having a wheel and four legs of its own Has never availed the cumbersome grindstone To get it anywhere that ...
The boat ploughed on. Now Alcatraz was past And all the grey waves flamed to red again At the dead ...
Was there a Garden or was the Garden a dream? Amid the fleeting light, I have slowed myself and queried, ...
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon ...
More towers must yet be built-more towers destroyed- Great rocks hoisted in air; And he must seek his bread in ...
A motorist once said to me, and this was in the country, on a county lane, a motorist slowed his ...
1/ Remember the old drunk at your church who elbowed me on the ribs and muttered something I undestood not? ...
A poem moves forward, Like the passages and percussions of trains in progress A pattern of recurrence, a hammer of ...
My swirling wants. Your frozen lips. The grammar turned and attacked me. Themes, written under duress. Emptiness of the notations. ...
The autumn feels slowed down, summer still holds on here, even the light seems to last longer than it should ...
I bought every kind of machine that's known -- Grinders, shellers, planters, mowers, Mills and rakes and ploughs and threshers ...
Take this quiet woman, she has been standing before a polishing wheel for over three hours, and she lacks twenty ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
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