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
Philip Larkin & Philip Larkin
Contextually, Larkin wrote this while he was librarian at Queen’s University, Belfast in 1950- in 1950, Larkin wrote to his friend that he was ‘reasonably content’ in Belfast. It is quite different to how everyone else felt in this time period, post-war where many English people felt that they were...
Lonely in Ireland, since it was not home,
Strangeness made sense. The salt rebuff of speech,
Insisting so on difference, made me welcome:
Once that was recognised, we were in touch.
Their draughty streets, end-on to hills, the faint
Archaic smell of dockland, like a stable.
The herring-hawker's cry, dwindling, went
To prove me separate, not unworkable.
Living in England has no such excuse:
These are my customs and establishments
It would be much more serious to refuse.
Here no elsewhere underwrites my existence.