Skip to main content
Read page text

index of first lines

Huge bodies driven on the shore by sleep

I do not know what the mist signifies

I do not say this child

I do not want to pour out my heart any more

I float between the banks of Maida Vale

I have noticed that words are not understood.

I sat on a bench in Eastville Park

I saw a hare jump across a ditch:

I understand you well enough, John Donne

I was born in Bristol, and it is possible

I was in the lane and saw the car pass.

I was led into captivity by the bitch business

I will tell you the story of my success:

I would not waste this paper for

If I could only return to where I am

If I had done differently I should have done well;

If love and death are one and the same thing,

If you had hopes once they have turned to reason

In my leprosy I have lost speech

It follows my footsteps over these hills. (Virgil)

It is because of exile I am here,

It is not the spoken word but the word spoken

It is the evening brought me here,

It is the nature of man that puzzles me

It was an old willow with a dark

It would seem that I thought,

Leaves are plentiful on the ground, under the feet,

Let not my words have meaning

Like questing hounds

May has her beauties like another month,

More is what they say, what I say is less,

My first trick was to clutch

My life dates from the day of my father’s death

Myrtle, roses and thyme

Naked people

No other language but that of the Creed

No poet uses a chisel in quite the same way

Not what I think but any land beside

Nothing comes out of the forest of my mind,

499

71

102

3

86

6

28

85

129

26

10

25

15

32

22

148

97

142

85

66

165

154

151

99

24

120

131

103

99

128

137

12

37

78

69

135

13

111

158

My Bookmarks


    Skip to main content