(1871–1962)
English poet
Ralph Hodgson
The fish looked bigger in the water.
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 77.
Gently, Years, Gently!
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 75.
You can’t drive a bent nail home.
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 72.
Did anyone ever have a boring dream?
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 76.
…Innocent as my dog Patch,
Barking at his echo…
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 72.
“Skunks,” the squirrel said, “are sent to try us.”
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 71.
A sparrow in a snowstorm with a feather in his bill: that is Faith.
“Flying Scrolls,” in The Skylark: and Other Poems (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1959), 74.