Category Poets

They carry terror with them like a purse,And flinch from the horizon like a gun;And all the rivers and the railways runAway from Neighbourhood as from a curse. They cling and huddle in the new disasterLike children sent to school,…

But in the evening the oppression lifted;The peaks came into focus; it had rained:Across the lawns and cultured flowers driftedThe conversation of the highly trained. The gardeners watched them pass and priced their shoes:A chauffeur waited, reading in the drive,For…

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;He knew human folly like the back of his hand,And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,And…

The sailors come ashoreOut of their hollow ships,Mild-looking middle-class boysWho read the comic strips;One baseball game is moreTo them than fifty Troys. They look a bit lost, set downIn this unamerican placeWhere natives pass with lawsAnd futures of their own;They…

As evening fell the day’s oppression liftedFar peaks came into focus, it had rained.Across wide lawns and cultured flowers driftedThe conversation of the highly trained.Two gardeners watched them pass and priced their shoesA chauffeur waited, reading in the driveFor them…

Far from the heart of culture he was used:Abandoned by his general and his lice,Under a padded quilt he closed his eyesAnd vanished. He will not be introduced When this campaign is tidied into books:No vital knowledge perished in his…

They are and suffer; that is all they do;A bandage hides the place where each is living,His knowledge of the world restricted toThe treatment that the instruments are giving. And lie apart like epochs from each other—Truth in their sense…

Here war is simple like a monument:A telephone is speaking to a man;Flags on a map assert that troops were sent;A boy brings milk in bowls. There is a plan For living men in terror of their lives,Who thirst at…

Engines bear them through the sky: they’re freeAnd isolated like the very rich;Remote like savants, they can only seeThe breathing city as a target which Requires their skill; will never see how flyingIs the creation of ideas they hate,Nor how…

Yes, we are going to suffer, now; the skyThrobs like a feverish forehead; pain is real;The groping searchlights suddenly revealThe little natures that will make us cry, Who never quite believed they could exist,Now where we were. They take us…