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Philip Larkin

Philip Larkin

Born: 9 August 1922 • Died: 2 December 1985

Philip Larkin was born in Coventry, England in 1922. He earned his BA from St. John’s College, Oxford. He worked in libraries his entire life, first in Shropshire and Leicester, and then at Queen’s College in Belfast, and finally as librarian at the University of Hull. In addition to collections of poetry, Larkin published two novels—Jill (1946) and A Girl in Winter (1947)—as well as criticism, essays, and reviews of jazz music. The latter were collected in two volumes: All What Jazz: A Record Diary 1961-1968 (1970; 1985) and Required Writing: Miscellaneous Pieces 1955-1982 (1984). He was one of post-war England’s most famous poets, and was commonly referred to as “England’s other Poet Laureate” until his death in 1985. Indeed, when the position of laureate became vacant in 1984, many poets and critics favored Larkin’s appointment, but Larkin preferred to avoid the limelight. (Source)

Poems by Philip Larkin

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Born Yesterday by Philip Larkin

"Outside the wind's incomplete unrest / builds and disperses clouds about the sky." — Philip Larkin
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I Have Started to Say by Philip Larkin

"All that's left to happen / Is some deaths (my own included)." – Philip Larkin
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Days by Philip Larkin

"Days are where we live. / They come, they wake us / Time and time over." — Philip Larkin
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High Windows by Philip Larkin

"Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: / The sun-comprehending glass," — Philip Larkin
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The Old Fools by Philip Larkin

"Perhaps being old is having lighted rooms / Inside your head, and people in them, acting" — Philip Larkin
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This Be the Verse by Philip Larkin

"They fill you with the faults they had / And add some extra, just for you." — Philip Larkin
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A Writer by Philip Larkin

"He knew, of course, no actions were rewarded, / There were no prizes" — Philip Larkin
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Morning At Last: There in the Snow by Philip Larkin

"What morning woke to will remain / Whether as happiness or pain." — Philip Larkin
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Poetry Of Departures by Philip Larkin

“He chucked up everything / And just cleared off,” — Philip Larkin
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Home is So Sad by Philip Larkin

"Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, / Shaped in the comfort of the last to go" — Philip Larkin
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Talking in Bed by Philip Larkin

"Outside the wind's incomplete unrest / builds and disperses clouds about the sky." — Philip Larkin