Tag Archives: Larkin

by Philip Larkin That Whitsun, I was late getting away: Not till aboutOne-twenty on the sunlit SaturdayDid my three-quarters-empty train pull out,All windows down, all cushions hot, all sense   Of being in a hurry gone. We ranBehind the backs of houses, crossed a streetOf blinding windscreens, smelt the fish-dock; thence   The river’s level drifting breadth began,Where sky andContinue reading “The Whitsun Weddings”