Tag Archives: English Poet

Poem – Mystery

Now I am all One bowl of kisses, Such as the tall Slim votaresses Of Egypt filled For a God’s excesses. I lift to you My bowl of kisses, And through the temple’s Blue recesses Cry out to you In … Continue reading

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Posted in David Herbert Lawrence (11 September 1885 – 2 March 1930 / Nottinghamshire / England) | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – children

A word will fill the little heart With pleasure and with pride; It is a harsh, a cruel thing, That such can be denied. And yet how many weary hours Those joyous creatures know; How much of sorrow and restraint … Continue reading

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Posted in Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802-1838 / England) | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the female god

We curl into your eyes- They drink our files and have never drained : In the fierce forest of your hair Our desires beat blindly for their treasure. In your eyes’ subtle pit, Far down, glimmer our souls ; And … Continue reading

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Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the one lost

I mingle with your bones: You steal in subtle noose This lighted dust .Jehovah loans And now I lose. What will the Lender say When I shall not be found, Safe-sheltered at the Judgment Day, Being in you bound ? … Continue reading

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Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the nun

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks, Too loth to show her face- Why should she shun the world ? It is a holy place. Concealed to itself If the flower kept its scent, Of itself amorous, Less rich its ornament. Use-utmost … Continue reading

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Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – a mood

You are so light and gay, So slight, sweet maid- Your limbs like leaves in play, Or beams that grasses braid : O ! Joys whose jewels pray My breast to be inlaid. Frail fairy of the streets ; Strong, … Continue reading

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Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the troop ship

Grotesque and queerly huddled Contortionists to twist The sleepy soul to a sleep, We lie all sorts of ways And cannot sleep. The wet wind is so cold, And the lurching men so careless, That, should you drop to a … Continue reading

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Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment