Dockery And Son (Philip Larkin Poem)
'Dockery was junior to you, Wasn't he?' said the Dean. 'His son's here now.' Death-suited, visitant, I nod. 'And do ...
'Dockery was junior to you, Wasn't he?' said the Dean. 'His son's here now.' Death-suited, visitant, I nod. 'And do ...
My mother, who hates thunder storms, Holds up each summer day and shakes It out suspiciously, lest swarms Of grape-dark ...
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