William Collins
William Collins
Eighteenth-century English poet whose lyrical works include Odes on Several Descriptive and Allegorical Subjects and Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands. Poet John Langhorne published Collins' collected poems in 1765.
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth25 December 1721
bed below bottom dreams drifting lower miles night pulls slip surface until weight
In a while, one of us will go up to bed and the other one will follow. Then we will slip below the surface of the night into miles of water, drifting down and down to the dark, soundless bottom until the weight of dreams pulls us lower still.
bed below dreams drifting lower miles pulls slip surface weight
In a while, one of us will go up to bedand the other one will follow.Then we will slip below the surface of the nightinto miles of water, drifting down and downto the dark, soundless bottomuntil the weight of dreams pulls us lower still.
doubt open placed waking
Each one is a gift, no doubt,mysteriously placed in your waking handor set upon your foreheadmoments before you open your eyes.
forehead hand moments open placed waking
Each one is a gift, no doubt, mysteriously placed in your waking hand or set upon your forehead moments before you open your eyes.
authors best meet possible written
Not to say that authors are all such sourpusses, but you meet the author in the best possible way, on the written page. I am at my best there, more patient, more thoughtful.
appeal limited national negative poetry sign tv
I'm not dismayed that poetry's appeal is limited in scope. That's why we have National Poetry Month. It's a sign of its neglect, which isn't necessarily a negative thing. It's not like we have National TV Month.
close eyes remove warm
I want to remove my hat, close my eyes,and feel the sun, warm and intermittent, on my face.
close remove warm
I want to remove my hat, close my eyes, and feel the sun, warm and intermittent, on my face.
across blowing lake might mind
I want my mind to be a sail, susceptible to any breezethat might be blowing across the lake of consciousness.
across blowing breeze lake might mind
I want my mind to be a sail, susceptible to any breeze that might be blowing across the lake of consciousness.
distance eyes horn melancholy mellow notes pale wild
With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul.
against broken lean low yeats
And with Yeats you lean against a broken pear tree, the day hooded by low clouds.
dark earth holding lakes last man rivers shore waiting water
Between the dark lakes where the dark rivers flowthere is no ferry waiting on the shore of rockand no man holding a long oar,ready to take your last coin.This is the real earth and the real water it contains.
dark earth flow holding lakes last man ready rivers rock shore waiting water
Between the dark lakes where the dark rivers flow there is no ferry waiting on the shore of rock and no man holding a long oar, ready to take your last coin. This is the real earth and the real water it contains.