Story (Philip Larkin Poem)
Tired of a landscape known too well when young: The deliberate shallow hills, the boring birds Flying past rocks; tired ...
Tired of a landscape known too well when young: The deliberate shallow hills, the boring birds Flying past rocks; tired ...
'Dockery was junior to you, Wasn't he?' said the Dean. 'His son's here now.' Death-suited, visitant, I nod. 'And do ...
You do not come dramatically, with dragons That rear up with my life between their paws And dash me butchered ...
Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, ...
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