Arrival (Philip Larkin Poem)
Morning, a glass door, flashes Gold names off the new city, Whose white shelves and domes travel The slow sky ...
Morning, a glass door, flashes Gold names off the new city, Whose white shelves and domes travel The slow sky ...
Higher than the handsomest hotel The lucent comb shows up for miles, but see, All round it close-ribbed streets rise ...
For nations vague as weed, For nomads among stones, Small-statured cross-faced tribes And cobble-close families In mill-towns on dark mornings ...
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, Killed. It had been in the ...
Cut grass lies frail: Brief is the breath Mown stalks exhale. Long, long the death It dies in the white ...
I have started to say "A quarter of a century" Or "thirty years back" About my own life. It makes ...
What do they think has happened, the old fools, To make them like this? Do they somehow suppose It's more ...
Continuing to live -- that is, repeat A habit formed to get necessaries -- Is nearly always losing, or going ...
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the ...
Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories