Jan Struther

[Joyce Anstruther] (1901 - 1953)

Jan Struther Poems

41. Biography 2/24/2017
42. Age 2/24/2017
43. Freedom 2/24/2017
44. A Man From The North 2/24/2017
45. Flowers At A Musical Party 2/24/2017
46. The Accompaniment 2/25/2017
47. At A Dull Party 2/25/2017
48. Audit 2/25/2017
49. The Glass-Blower 2/25/2017
50. Orchestral Score 2/25/2017
51. The Coach 2/25/2017
52. The Weavers 2/25/2017
53. Glamour 2/25/2017
54. Windfall 2/25/2017
55. A Paradox 2/25/2017
56. Portrait 2/25/2017
57. High Tide 2/25/2017
58. Mood Indigo 2/25/2017
59. Body Beware… 2/25/2017
60. London, May 1930 2/25/2017
61. Ballade Of Vanishing Wild Flowers 3/6/2017
62. Gold And Silver 3/6/2017
63. Evening 3/6/2017
64. Song 3/6/2017
65. Dirge For Brief Love 3/20/2017
66. The Higglers 3/20/2017
67. To An Orchard Near London 3/20/2017
68. Wedding Eve 3/20/2017
69. The Little World 3/20/2017
70. Epitaph On A Lady Of Fashion 3/20/2017
71. To Philippa 3/20/2017
72. Love-Children 3/20/2017
73. The Rival 3/20/2017
74. On A Child Who Died In Autumn 3/20/2017
75. Three Women 3/20/2017
76. To His Sweetheart, To Save Her Soul 3/6/2017
77. Epithalamion 10/20/2015

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Best Poem of Jan Struther

Epithalamion

THE raw materials of love are yours-
Fond hearts, and lusty blood, and minds in tune;
And so, dear innocents! you think yourselves
Lovers full-blown.

Am I, because I own
Chisel, mallet and stone,
A sculptor? And must he
Who hears a skylark and can hold a pen
A poet be?
If neither's so, why then
You're not yet lovers. But in time to come
(If senses grow not dulled nor spirit dum
By constant exercise of skill and wit,
By patient toil and judgment exquisite
Of body, mind and heart,
You may, my innocents, fashion
This tenderness, this liking and ...

Read the full of Epithalamion

The King's Road

The bus is swaying. We have left Sloane Square.
Noisily the conductor climbs the stair.
'Fares, please!' says he. 'Two penny ones,' say I.
'Two to World's End?' says he. I want to cry,
'Two to World's End-yes, yes, to the very end,
For me and my sweet friend . . . !'
But he turns away; he does not understand;
And we are alone, and dumb, and hand in hand.
love, we are poor, but the gold of the sunset fills our eyes,

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