Philip Larkin

(9 August 1922 – 2 December 1985 / West Midlands / England)

Philip Larkin Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. A Study Of Reading Habits 4/2/2010
2. Ambulances 4/2/2010
3. An Arundel Tomb 4/2/2010
4. Annus Mirabilis 4/2/2010
5. Arrival 4/2/2010
6. At Grass 4/2/2010
7. Aubade 4/2/2010
8. Autobiography At An Air-Station 4/2/2010
9. Best Society 4/2/2010
10. Church Going 4/2/2010
11. Continuing To Live 4/2/2010
12. Cut Grass 4/2/2010
13. Days 4/2/2010
14. Deceptions 4/2/2010
15. Dockery And Son 4/2/2010
16. Dublinesque 4/2/2010
17. Essential Beauty 4/2/2010
18. Faith Healing 1/3/2003
19. Far Out 1/3/2003
20. First Sight 4/2/2010
21. For Sidney Bechet 1/3/2003
22. Friday Night At The Royal Station Hotel 1/3/2003
23. Going 1/3/2003
24. He Hears That His Beloved Has Become Engaged 1/3/2003
25. High Windows 1/3/2003
26. Homage To A Government 1/3/2003
27. Home Is So Sad 1/3/2003
28. How Distant 1/3/2003
29. I Have Started To Say 1/3/2003
30. I Remember, I Remember 1/3/2003
31. If Hands Could Free You, Heart 1/3/2003
32. Ignorance 1/3/2003
33. Is It For Now Or For Always 1/3/2003
34. Letter To A Friend About Girls 4/2/2010
35. Library Ode 1/3/2003
36. Like The Train's Beat 1/3/2003
37. Lines On A Young Lady's Photograph Album 1/3/2003
38. Long Sight In Age 1/3/2003
39. Love Songs In Age 1/3/2003
40. Love, We Must Part Now 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Philip Larkin

Aubade

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to ...

Read the full of Aubade

Wild Oats

About twenty years ago
Two girls came in where I worked -
A bosomy English rose
And her friend in specs I could talk to.
Faces in those days sparked
The whole shooting-match off, and I doubt
If ever one had like hers:
But it was the friend I took out,

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