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''Sing there upon the beach
Till all's beyond death's reach,
And empty shells reply
That all things flourish.''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Lift through the breaking day."
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Let my hands find such symbols, that can be
Unnoticed in the casual light of day,
Lying in wait for half a century
To split chance lives across, that had not dreamed
Such coasts ha...
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Plymouth."
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''The northern sky rose high and black
Over the proud unfruitful sea,
East and west the ships came back
Happily or unhappily....''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "The North Ship."
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''The widest prairies have electric fences....''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Wires."
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''Rigidly they
Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated.''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "A Arundel Tombn."
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One of the sadder things, I think,
Is how our birthdays slowly sink:
Presents and parties disappear,
The cards grow fewer year by year,
Till, when one reaches sixty-five,
How ...
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Dear CHARLES, My Muse, asleep or dead."
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''Lift through the breaking day,
Wind that pursues the dawn ...''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Lift through the breaking day."
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''A box of teak, a box of sandalwood,
A brass-ringed spyglass in a case,
A coin, leaf-thin with many polishings,
Last kingdom of a gold forgotten face,
These lie about the room....''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Plymouth."
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''I saw three ships go sailing by,
Over the sea, the lifting sea....''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "The North Ship."
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''Hearing this last word,
There was no lambing-night,
No gale-driven bird
Nor frost-encircled root
As cold as my heart.''
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Philip Larkin (1922-1986), British poet. "Within the dream you said."
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Home is So Sad
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Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft
And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
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Poets
