Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
Philip Larkin
The essence of this poem is a dedication to happiness the poet feels at spring time. It is a delightful, innocent offering from a poet regarded as dour and cynical, even curmudgeonly. The poem works through stages of perception of the natural world and memories of a dull childhood, to which he is re...
On longer evenings,
Light, chill and yellow,
Bathes the serene
Foreheads of houses.
A thrush sings,
Laurel-surrounded
In the deep bare garden,
Its fresh-peeled voice
Astonishing the brickwork.
It will be spring soon,
It will be spring soon—
And I, whose childhood
Is a forgotten boredom,
Feel like a child
Who comes on a scene
Of adult reconciling,
And can understand nothing
But the unusual laughter,
And starts to be happy.