Money (Philip Larkin Poem)
Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me: 'Why do you let me lie here wastefully? I am all you never had ...
Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me: 'Why do you let me lie here wastefully? I am all you never had ...
When I was a child, I thought, Casually, that solitude Never needed to be sought. Something everybody had, Like nakedness, ...
A stationary sense... as, I suppose, I shall have, till my single body grows Inaccurate, tired; Then I shall start ...
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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