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
- Not my poem
- Sonnet 1: From fairest creatures we desire increase by William Shakespeare
- A Schoolyard Shame by Ryan Isaacson
- Disappointment
- At A Solemn Musick poem – John Milton poems
- Thomas Gray – Thomas Gray
- Seed Time And Harvest
- The Immigrant
- Олег Бундур – Учительница открыла журнал
- Владимир Маяковский – У шахтера нет чая, нет табаку, нет сахару… (РОСТА №604)
- Oh Who Is That Young Sinner poem – A. E. Housman
- To A Castillan Song by Sara Teasdale
- O the Chimneys by Nelly Sachs
- Ethiopia Saluting the Colors. by Walt Whitman
- Hippo’s Hope by Shel Silverstein
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.