I would hope for the children of West Ham
Wooden-frame houses, square with some-sort stuff
27 lines
O does some blind fool now stand on my hill
To see how Ashleworth nestles by the river?
18 lines
Those dreadful evidences of Man's ill-doing
The kindly Mother of all shall soon hide deep,
14 lines
We who praise poets with our labouring pen
And justify ourselves with laud of men
17 lines
The wind frightens my dog, but I bathe in it,
Sound, rush, scent of the Spring fields.
4 lines
Watching the dark my spirit rose in flood
On that most dearest Prelude of my delight.
8 lines
As I went up by Ovillers
In mud and water cold to the knee,
23 lines, 1 comment
I cannot live with Beauty out of mind.
I search for her and desire her all the day;
19 lines, 3 comments
Few have praised the master of masters, who but I
Have right, that followed example, and did not lie
21 lines
O, but the racked clear tired strained frames we had!
Tumbling in the new billet on to straw bed,
17 lines
It seemed that it were well to kiss first earth
On landing, having traversed the narrow seas,
18 lines
One lucky hour in middle of my tiredness
I came under the pines of the sheer steep
11 lines
The youth burning couch grass is as tired
As muscle has right to bear and keeps work on
18 lines
If England, her spirit lives anywhere
It is by Severn, by hawthorns and grand willows.
15 lines
We marched, and saw a company of Canadians
Their coats weighed eighty pounds at least, we saw them
21 lines
The dearness of common things —
Beech wood, tea, plate-shelves,
19 lines
There was a water dump there, and regimental
Carts came every day to line up and fill full
24 lines
Not in blue vases these
Nor white, cut flowers are seen
57 lines
If one's heart is broken twenty times a day,
What easier thing than to fling the bits away,
8 lines
Darkness has cheating swiftness
When the eyes rove
13 lines
I will not droop my soiled flag,
Nor turn a thought on my own shame,
12 lines
Misery weighed by drachms and scruples
Is but scrawls on a vain page,
8 lines
One comes across the strangest things in walks,
Fragment of Abbey tithe barns fixed in modern,
18 lines
The tiny daisies are
Not anything
22 lines
After the dread tales and red yams of the Line
Anything might have come to us; but the divine
16 lines
The ploughed field and the fallow field
They sang a prudent song to me;
14 lines, 1 comment
There are mummers yet on Cotswold,
Though Will Squele he lies low,
8 lines
Had I a song
I would sing it here
8 lines
Half dead with sheer tiredness, wakened quick at night •
With dysentry pangs, going blind among sleepers
10 lines
To me the A Major Concerto has been dearer
Than ever before, because I saw one weave
22 lines, 1 comment
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