The Mower

Philip Larkin

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed.  It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably.  Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

Next 10 Poems

• Philip Larkin : The North Ship
• Philip Larkin : The Old Fools
• Philip Larkin : The School In August
• Philip Larkin : The Spirit Wooed
• Philip Larkin : The Trees
• Philip Larkin : The Whitsun Weddings
• Philip Larkin : This Be The Verse
• Philip Larkin : This Is The First Thing
• Philip Larkin : To Failure
• Philip Larkin : To My Wife

Previous 10 Poems

• Philip Larkin : The Little Lives Of Earth And Form
• Philip Larkin : The Importance Of Elsewhere
• Philip Larkin : The Explosion
• Philip Larkin : The Building
• Philip Larkin : Talking In Bed
• Philip Larkin : Take One Home For The Kiddies
• Philip Larkin : Sunny Prestatyn
• Philip Larkin : Story
• Philip Larkin : Solar
• Philip Larkin : Skin