David Mitchell Poems

The stars adorn the heaven at night,
They beautify with gleaming light
The sky of dismal hue;
They shiver in the icy cold,
...

Le printemps — la saison quand l'agréable tiédeur
Recommence, apportant avec lui son bonheur,
...

That is what I firmly believe.
I understand that some people find it hard to believe in God.
So do we all, at times.
We are human beings.
...

It is the part of the poet
To tell his readers
What they already know
and know they know
...

If what follows this life
Is a heaven without suffering,
Where the recollection of past suffering
Does not induce present suffering;
...

Slender, swimming, silent swan!
How gracefully you glide along!
Your coat of white, purer than snow;
You see, with lofty eyes, to grow
...

The shining summer ages, dwindles, dies;
The heat turns to the cold.
The former azure hue of yonder skies
Is hardly to behold:
...

As languidly my feet plod home,
My thoughts the universe o'er-roam;
The silent stillness still inspires
A muteness of Cimmerian choirs
...

We exist: of that no sane person does doubt,
Although there may pseudophilosophers be,
...

I turn the television on
And what abysmal hell
Pollutes the screen? What could it be
But Eamonn Holmes' Hard Spell?
...