Poems of Stephen Spender
|2.||A Stopwatch and an Ordnance Map||4/22/2010|
|3.||An Elementary School Classroom in a Slum||4/22/2010|
|5.||He will Watch the Hawk||4/22/2010|
|6.||I Think Continually||4/22/2010|
|7.||O Night O Trembling Night||4/22/2010|
|8.||On The Pilots Who Destroyed Germany In The Spring Of 1945||4/22/2010|
|9.||On The Third Day||4/22/2010|
|11.||The Labourer In The Vineyard||4/22/2010|
|12.||The Landscape near an Aerodrome||4/22/2010|
|14.||The Room Above the Square||4/22/2010|
|15.||The Shapes of Death||4/22/2010|
|17.||Ultima Ratio Regum||4/22/2010|
At Dawn she lay with her profile at that angle
Which, when she sleeps, seems the carved face of an angel.
Her hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows
And plays, against the white cloud of the pillows.
Then, in a flush of rose, she woke, and her eyes that opened
Swam in blue through her rose flesh that dawned.
From her dew of lips, the drop of one word
Fell like the first of fountains: murmured
'Darling', upon my ears the song of the first bird.