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. The Spirit Wooed 1/1/2004
2. The Little Lives Of Earth And Form 1/3/2003
3. New Eyes Each Year 1/3/2003
4. Send No Money 1/3/2003
5. Story 1/3/2003
6. TrÄUmerei 1/13/2003
7. Since The Majority Of Me 1/3/2003
8. This Is The First Thing 1/3/2003
9. Like The Train's Beat 1/3/2003
10. Skin 1/3/2003
11. Modesties 1/3/2003
12. The View 3/19/2003
13. Night Music 1/3/2003
14. Myxomatosis 1/3/2003
15. He Hears That His Beloved Has Become Engaged 1/3/2003
16. Solar 1/3/2003
17. The School In August 1/3/2003
18. Maturity 1/3/2003
19. The Building 1/3/2003
20. The Mower 1/3/2003
21. To Put One Brick Upon Another 1/3/2003
22. Mother, Summer, I 1/3/2003
23. I Have Started To Say 1/3/2003
24. How Distant 1/3/2003
25. Long Sight In Age 1/3/2003
26. The Importance Of Elsewhere 1/3/2003
27. Wants 1/3/2003
28. To My Wife 1/13/2003
29. Money 1/3/2003
30. Whatever Happened? 1/3/2003
31. Triple Time 1/3/2003
32. Reasons For Attendance 1/3/2003
33. Mcmxiv 1/3/2003
34. Vers De SociÉTÉ 1/13/2003
35. Lines On A Young Lady's Photograph Album 1/3/2003
36. When First We Faced, And Touching Showed 1/13/2003
37. If Hands Could Free You, Heart 1/3/2003
38. On Being Twenty-Six 4/2/2010
39. Next Please 1/3/2003
40. Take One Home For The Kiddies 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

Library Ode

New eyes each year
Find old books here,
And new books,too,
Old eyes renew;
So youth and age
Like ink and page
In this house join,
Minting new coin.

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