It was a very little while and they had gone in front of it. It was that they had liked it would it bear. It was a very much adjoined a follower. Flower of an adding where a follower.
Have I come in. Will in suggestion.
They may like hours in catching.
It is always a pleasure to remember.

An Apology for the Revival of Christian Architecture in England

© Geoffrey Hill

And, after all, it is to them we return.
Their triumph is to rise and be our hosts:
lords of unquiet or of quiet sojourn,
those muddy-hued and midge-tormented ghosts.

Soonest Mended

© John Ashbery

Barely tolerated, living on the margin

In our technological society, we were always having to be rescued

Niagara

© Daniel Nester

Driving westward near Niagara, that transfiguring of the waters,
I was torn—as moon from orbit by a warping of gravitation—
From coercion of the freeway to the cataract’s prodigality,
Had to stand there, breathe its rapture, inebriety of the precipice . . .

Paradise Lost: Book X

© Patrick Kavanagh

So having said, he thus to Eve in few:
"Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?"
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelm'd,
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied,
"The Serpent me beguil'd, and I did eat."

Chomei at Toyama

© Ted Hughes

Swirl sleeping in the waterfall!
On motionless pools scum appearing
disappearing!

Father and Son

© Delmore Schwartz

FRANZ KAFKA
Father:
On these occasions, the feelings surprise,
Spontaneous as rain, and they compel
Explicitness, embarrassed eyes——

Sonnets of the Blood

© Allen Tate

I

What is the flesh and blood compounded of

The Bachelor’s Soliloquy

To wed, or not to wed; that is the question;

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

Canicule Macaronique

© John Fuller

Heureux ceux qui ont la clim—Corse-Matin (6.8.94)
Heureux ceux qui ont la clim
Pendant la grande canicule.
Heureux those whose culs are cool.
Heureuse her and heureux him.

Symphony of a Mexican Garden

But all across the trudging ragged chords
That are the tangled grasses in the heat,
The mariposa lilies fluttering
Like trills upon some archangelic flute,

To James Fenton

© John Fuller

The poet’s duties: no need to stress
The subject’s dullness, nonetheless
Here’s an incestuous address
In Robert Burns’ style
To one whom all the Muses bless
At Great Turnstile.