what is the meter of the poem "Ambulances" by Philip Larkin?
Closed like confessionals, they thread
Loud noons of cities, giving back
None of the glances they absorb.
Light glossy grey, arms on a plaque,
They come to rest at any kerb:
All streets in time are visited.
Then children strewn on...
what is the meter of the poem "Ambulances" by Philip Larkin?
Closed like confessionals, they thread
Loud noons of cities, giving back
None of the glances they absorb.
Light glossy grey, arms on a plaque,
They come to rest at any kerb:
All streets in time are visited.
Then children strewn on...
I find that girls love compliments (myself included ^.^)
tell her that you think she is beautiful, smart, compassionate (whatever you like about her) and see how she responds