Poems by Stephen Spender
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On The Third Day
... Silence was stitched through with thinnest pine needles ...
On The Pilots Who Destroyed Germany In The Spring Of 1945
... Their murmuring throbbing cage, in the air of blue crystal ...
The Truly Great
... s centre. Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun ...
The Landscape near an Aerodrome
... In miles of softness, now let their eyes trained by watching ...
The Labourer In The Vineyard
... Turrets of leaves, grape-triangles, the labourer stands ...
Ultima Ratio Regum
... Whilst his life, intangible as a Stock Exchange rumour, drifted outside ...
He will Watch the Hawk
... Weapons men use, stone, sling and strong-thewed bow ...
The Pylons
... Now over these small hills, they have built the concrete ...
Port Bou
... In their smiling faces the war finds peace, the famished mouths ...
The Shapes of Death
... Not saving me from death, but saving me for speech ...
O Night O Trembling Night
... O night O trembling night O night of sighs ...
An Elementary School Classroom in a Slum
... Wear skins peeped through by bones and spectacles of steel ...
A Childhood
... And truth the objectless persistent loneliness, ...
The Room Above the Square
... Torn like leaves through Europe is the peace ...
A Stopwatch and an Ordnance Map
... He stayed faithfully in that place ...
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