Who is Harold Monro

Harold Edward Monro Harold Edward Monro (14 March 1879 – 16 March 1932) was an English poet born in Brussels and proprietor of the Poetry Bookshop in London, which helped many poets bring their work before the public.

Life and career Monro was born at 137 chaussée de Charleroi, Saint-Gilles/St Gillis, Brussels, on 14 March 1879, as the youngest of three surviving chi...
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Harold Monro Poems

  • Thistledown
    This might have been a place for sleep,
    But, as from that small hollow there
    Hosts of bright thistledown begin
    Their dazzling journey through the air, ...
  • Real Property
    Tell me about that harvest field.
    Oh! Fifty acres of living bread.
    The colour has painted itself in my heart;
    The form is patterned in my head. ...
  • Living
    Slow bleak awakening from the morning dream
    Brings me in contact with the sudden day.
    I am alive â?? this I.
    I let my fingers move along my body. ...
  • Suburb
    Dull and hard the low wind creaks
    Among the rustling pampas plumes.
    Drearily the year consumes
    Its fifty-two insipid weeks. ...
  • Man Carrying Bale
    The tough hand closes gently on the load;
    Out of the mind, a voice
    Calls 'Lift!' and the arms, remembering well their work,
    Lengthen and pause for help. ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Harold Monro

Night 14 Love 11 I Love You 11 Suddenly 9 Heart 9 Delight 8 Cool 8 Away 8 Head 8 Mind 8

Harold Monro Quotes

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Comments about Harold Monro

  • Somequotesbot: "the children eat and wriggle and laugh,the two old ladies stroke their silk;but the cat is grown small and thin with desire,transformed to a creeping lust for milk." - harold monro
  • Sansserif_: harold monro, overheard on a salt marsh, 1917 it me. ~goblin, why do you love them so? they are better than stars or water, better than voices of winds that sing, better than any man’s fair daughter, your green glass beads on a silver ring. hush, i stole them out of the moon.
  • Dickensfellowhq: born otd - 19/10/1784 - leigh hunt, poet, critic and model for harold skimpole in bh. "as it has given you so much pain, i take it at its worst, and say i am deeply sorry, and that i feel i did wrong in doing it." letter to hunt nov. 1854
  • Bobcox_sfe: very much so. ‘when all the lamps were lighted in the town i passed into the street ways and i watched, wakeful, almost happy, and half the night i wandered in the street.’ by harold monro featured in ‘od to famous poetry and prose’.
  • Harpacademy1: kerr class reading ‘overheard on a salt marsh’ by harold monro.
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Poem of the day

Alfred Lord Tennyson Poem
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, Yet We Trust That Somehow Goo
 by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;

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