Maturity

Philip Larkin

A stationary sense... as, I suppose,
I shall have, till my single body grows
Inaccurate, tired;
Then I shall start to feel the backward pull
Take over, sickening and masterful -
Some say, desired.

And this must be the prime of life... I blink,
As if at pain; for it is pain, to think
This pantomime
Of compensating act and counter-act
Defeat and counterfeit, makes up, in fact
My ablest time.

Next 10 Poems

• Philip Larkin : Mcmxiv
• Philip Larkin : Modesties
• Philip Larkin : Money
• Philip Larkin : Mother, Summer, I
• Philip Larkin : Mr Bleaney
• Philip Larkin : Myxomatosis
• Philip Larkin : New Eyes Each Year
• Philip Larkin : Next, Please
• Philip Larkin : Night-music
• Philip Larkin : No Road

Previous 10 Poems

• Philip Larkin : Maiden Name
• Philip Larkin : Love, We Must Part Now
• Philip Larkin : Love Songs In Age
• Philip Larkin : Love Again
• Philip Larkin : Long Sight In Age
• Philip Larkin : Lines On A Young Lady's Photograph Album
• Philip Larkin : Like The Train's Beat
• Philip Larkin : Is It For Now Or For Always
• Philip Larkin : Ignorance
• Philip Larkin : If Hands Could Free You, Heart