poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

There is an evening coming in
Across the fields, one never seen before,
That lights no lamps.

Silken it seems at a distance, yet
When it is drawn up over the knees and breast
It brings no comfort.

Where has the tree gone, that locked 
Earth to sky? What is under my hands,
That I cannot feel?

What loads my hand down?


Submitted by paul mckenzie

Added: 1 Apr 2002 | Last Read: 7 Sep 2026 10:07 AM | Viewed: 15094 times

A PoetryNotes™ Analysis of Going by Philip Larkin, is Available!

A PoetryNotes™ eBook is available for this poem for delivery within 24 hours, and usually available within minutes during normal business hours.

ON SALE - only $29.95 19.95!

For more information...