Friday, November 01, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Kenneth Grahame

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O what a flowery track lies spread before me, henceforth! What dust clouds shall spring up behind me as I speed on my reckless way! What carts I shall fling carelessly into the ditch in the wake of my magnificent onset!

 
Kenneth Grahame

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What joy have I in June's return?
My feet are parched—my eyeballs burn,
     I scent no flowery gust;
But faint the flagging Zephyr springs,
With dry Macadam on its wings,
     And turns me "dust to dust."

 
Thomas Hood
 

You drive the landscape like a herd of clouds
Moving against your horizontal tower
Of steadfast speed.
All England lies beneath you like a woman
With limbs ravished
By one glance carrying all these eyes.

 
Stephen Spender
 

Lo! all things moving must go by.
The sea lies dead. Behold, this land
Sits desolate in dust beside
His snow-white, seamless shroud of sand;
The very clouds have wept and died,
And only God is in the sky.

 
Joaquin Miller
 

He had that self-reproachful feeling of having been remiss which comes to Generals who wake up one morning to discover that they have carelessly allowed themselves to be outflanked.

 
P. G. Wodehouse
 

Wake, soldier, wake, thy war-horse waits
To bear thee to the battle back;
Thou slumberest at a foeman’s gates,—
Thy dog would break thy bivouac;
Thy plume is trailing in the dust
And thy red falchion gathering rust.

 
Thomas Kibble Hervey
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