In Memoriam A.H.H. Alfred, Lord Tennyson CI Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway, The tender blossom flutter down, Unloved, that beech will gather brown, This
Nature’s Questioning Thomas Hardy When I look forth at dawning, pool, Field, flock, and lonely tree, All seem to gaze at me Like chastened children
What Is Life?John Clare (1793-1864) AND what is Life?—An hour-glass on the run,A mist retreating from the morning sun,A busy, bustling, still repeated dream.—Its length?—A
The WindhoverGerard Manley Hopkins To Christ Our Lord I caught this morning morning’s minion, king- dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of
The Best of SchoolD.H. Lawrence The blinds are drawn because of the sun,And the boys and the room in a colourless gloomOf underwater float: bright
A Postcard from the Volcano by Wallace Stevens Children picking up our bones . . .