Poems by Philip Larkin
Long Sight In Age
... Round the last shape of things ...
Ignorance
... Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed, ...
Friday Night At The Royal Station Hotel
... Hours pass, And all the salesmen have gone back to Leeds, ...
Cut Grass
... Lost lanes of Queen Anne's lace, ...
Wires
... Whose muscle-shredding violence gives no quarter ...
The Mower
... The first day after a death, the new absence ...
The Building
... on the way Someone's wheeled past, in washed-to-rags ward clothes: ...
Autobiography At An Air-Station
... With all the luggage weighed, the tickets checked, ...
Letter To A Friend About Girls
... they begin Fetching your hat, so that you have to lie ...
Aubade
... Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring ...
Vers De Société
... the big wish Is to have people nice to you, which means ...
To Put One Brick Upon Another
... But to sit with bricks around you ...
High Windows
... No God any more, or sweating in the darkAbout hell and that, or having to hide ...
This Be The Verse
... They fill you with the faults they had ...
Annus Mirabilis
... Between the end of the Chatterley ban ...
