Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

(19 July 1902 - 13 May 1962 / Birkenhead, England)

Arthur Seymour John Tessimond Poems

1. Any Man Speaks 1/13/2003
2. Attack On The Ad-Man 1/13/2003
3. Bells, Pool And Sleep 1/13/2003
4. Betrayal 1/13/2003
5. Birch Tree 1/13/2003
6. Black Morning Lovesong 3/17/2012
7. Black On Black 1/13/2003
8. Cats 1/13/2003
9. Cats 1 1/13/2003
10. Chaplin 1/13/2003
11. Cinema Screen 1/13/2003
12. Cocoon For A Skeleton 1/13/2003
13. Day Dream 1/13/2003
14. Discovery 1/13/2003
15. Don Juan 1/13/2003
16. Earthfast 1/13/2003
17. Empty Room 1/13/2003
18. Epilogue 1/13/2003
19. Epitaph For Our Children 1/13/2003
20. Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times 1/13/2003
21. Flight Of Stairs 1/13/2003
22. Houses 1/13/2003
23. June Sick Room 1/13/2003
24. Last Word To Childhood 1/13/2003
25. Meeting 1/13/2003
26. Music 1/13/2003
27. Never 1/13/2003
28. Night Piece 1/13/2003
29. Not Love Perhaps 1/13/2003
30. Nursery Rhyme For A Twenty-First Birthday 1/13/2003
31. O 1/13/2003
32. One Almost Might 1/13/2003
33. One Day 10/1/2006
34. Polyphony In A Cathedral 1/13/2003
35. Quickstep 1/13/2003
36. Sea 1/13/2003
37. Seaport 1/13/2003
38. Symphony In Red -new- 4/17/2015
39. The British 1/13/2003
40. The Children Look At The Parents 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

The Man In The Bowler Hat

I am the unnoticed, the unnoticable man:
The man who sat on your right in the morning train:
The man who looked through like a windowpane:
The man who was the colour of the carriage, the colour of the mounting
Morning pipe smoke.
I am the man too busy with a living to live,
Too hurried and worried to see and smell and touch:
The man who is patient too long and obeys too much
And wishes too softly and seldom.

I am the man they call the nation's backbone,
Who am boneless - playable catgut, pliable clay:
The Man they label Little lest one day
I dare to ...

Read the full of The Man In The Bowler Hat

Symphony In Red

Within the church
The solemn priests advance,
And the sunlight, stained by the heavy windows,
Dyes a yet richer red the scarlet banners
And the scarlet robes of the young boys that bear them,
And the thoughts of one of these are far away,
With carmined lips pouting an invitation,
Are with his love - his love, like a crimson poppy
Flaunting amid prim lupins;

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