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.
81. Home Is So Sad 1/3/2003
82. Deceptions 4/2/2010
83. Ignorance 1/3/2003
84. For Sidney Bechet 1/3/2003
85. Days 4/2/2010
86. The Whitsun Weddings 1/3/2003
87. Far Out 1/3/2003
88. Ambulances 4/2/2010
89. An Arundel Tomb 4/2/2010
90. The Old Fools 1/3/2003
91. High Windows 1/3/2003
92. Faith Healing 1/3/2003
93. Church Going 4/2/2010
94. Aubade 4/2/2010
Best Poem of Philip Larkin


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

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