George Barker (poet)

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Yet each man kills the thing he loves from all let this be heard some does it with a bitter look some with a flattering word the coward does it with a kiss the brave man with the sword.
Oscar Wilde
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George Granville Barker (26 February 191327 October 1991) was an English poet and author.


The True Confession of George Barker

  • I, born in Essex thirty-four
    Essentially sexual years ago,
    Stepped down, looked around, and saw
    I had been cast a little low
    In the social register
    For the friends whom I now know.
    Is a constable a mister?
    Bob's your uncle, even so.

Turn on your side and bear the day to me

  • Turn on your side and bear the day to me
    Beloved, sceptre-struck, immured
    In the glass wall of sleep. Slowly
    Uncloud the borealis of your eye
    And show your iceberg secrets, your midnight prizes
    To the green-eyed world and to me.

Summer Song

  • My one, my one, my only love,
    Hide, hide your face in a leaf,
    And let the hot tear falling burn
    The stupid heart that will not learn
    The everywhere of grief.

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