Morning, a glass door, flashes
Gold names off the new city,
Whose white shelves and domes travel
The slow sky all day.
I land to stay here;
And the windows flock open
And the curtains fly out like doves
And a past dries in a wind.
Now let me lie down, under
A wide-branched indifference,
Shovel-faces like pennies
Down the back of the mind,
Find voices coined to
An argot of motor-horns,
And let the cluttered-up houses
Keep their thick lives to themselves.
For this ignorance of me
Seems a kind of innocence.
Fast enough I shall wound it:
Let me breathe till then
Its milk-aired Eden,
Till my own life impound it-
Slow-falling; grey-veil-hung; a theft,
A style of dying only.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Алексей Плещеев – Весна
- Minoan Porcelain poem – Aldous Huxley poems | Poetry Monster
- Let Him Free by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Motel Seedy by Thomas Lux
- Наум Коржавин – Не верь, что ты поэта шире
- The beauty of the heart by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- September by Ted Hughes
- Николай Гумилев – Живала Ниагара
- Олег Григорьев – На боку кобура болталась
- Damayante To Nala In The Hour Of Exile by Sarojini Naidu
- Couplets on Wit poem – Alexander Pope
- Николай Карамзин – Филлиде
- Ольга Седакова – Цивилизация
- Think Of It Not, Sweet One poem – John Keats poems
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: 99. Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
Philip Arthur Larkin (1922-1985), Commander of the Order of the British Empire, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, Cavalier of the Order of the Companions of Honour, was an English poet, novelist, and librarian.