(Towards the end of his life, Philip Larkin wrote very little poetry. 'They don't come any more', he said.)

In a small way, I understand the man.

As he grew older, verses would not come;

His delicious palette had been stowed away.

The ideas were there, aplenty, for sure -

Let’s face it, we have ideas all the time -

And words, waiting coyly to be favoured;

But his poems re...

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