Poems

Edward Thomas

• Publisher: Ragged Hand - Read & Co.
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781473364646
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: European Poetry
• Index: Literature

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book. ++++ The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to ensure edition identification: ++++ Poems reprint Edward Thomas null Selwyn & Blount, 1917

LOB

AT hawthorn-time in Wiltshire travelling

In search of something chance would never bring,

An old man’s face, by life and weather cut

And coloured,—rough, brown, sweet as any nut,—

A land face, sea-blue-eyed,—hung in my mind

When I had left him many a mile behind.

All he said was: “Nobody can’t stop ‘ee. It’s

A footpath, right enough. You see those bits

Of mounds—that’s where they opened up the barrows

Sixty years since, while I was scaring sparrows.

They thought as there was something to find there,

But couldn’t find it, by digging, anywhere.”

To turn back then and seek him, where was the use?

There were three Manningfords,—Abbots, Bohun, and bruce:

And whether Alton, not Manningford, it was,

My memory could not decide, because

There was both Alton Barnes and Alton Priors.

All had their churches, graveyards, farms, and byres,

Lurking to one side up the paths and lanes,

Seldom well seen except by aeroplanes;

And when bells rang, or pigs squealed, or cocks crowed,

Then only heard. Ages ago the road

Approached. The people stood and looked and turned,

Nor asked it to come nearer, nor yet learned

To move out there and dwell in all men’s dust.

And yet withal they shot the weathercock, just

Because ‘twas he crowed out of tune, they said:

So now the copper weathercock is dead.

If they had reaped their dandelions and sold

Them fairly, they could have afforded gold.

Many years passed, and I went back again

Among those villages, and looked for men

Who might have known my ancient. He himself

Had long been dead or laid upon the shelf,

I thought. One man I asked about him roared

At my description: “’Tis old Bottlesford

He means, Bill.” But another said: “Of course,

It was Jack Button up at the White Horse.

He’s dead, sir, these three years.” This lasted till

A girl proposed Walker of Walker’s Hill,

“Old Adam Walker. Adam’s Point you’ll see

Marked on the maps.”

“That was her roguery,”

The next man said. He was a squire’s son

Who loved wild bird and beast, and dog and gun

...

Table of contents

• Edward Thomas
• THE TRUMPET
• THE SIGN-POST
• TEARS
• TWO PEWITS
• THE MANOR FARM
• THE OWL
• SWEDES
• WILL YOU COME?
• AS THE TEAM’S HEAD-BRASS
• THAW
• INTERVAL
• LIKE THE TOUCH OF RAIN
• THE PATH
• THE COMBE
• IF I SHOULD EVER BY CHANCE
• WHAT SHALL I GIVE?
• IF I WERE TO OWN
• AND YOU, HELEN
• WHEN FIRST
• HEAD AND BOTTLE
• AFTER YOU SPEAK
• SOWING
• WHEN WE TWO WALKED
• IN MEMORIAM (Easter, 1915)
• FIFTY FAGGOTS
• WOMEN HE LIKED
• EARLY ONE MORNING
• THE CHERRY TREES
• IT RAINS
• THE HUXTER
• A GENTLEMAN
• THE BRIDGE
• LOB
• BRIGHT CLOUDS
• THE CLOUDS THAT ARE SO LIGHT
• SOME EYES CONDEMN
• MAY 23
• THE GLORY
• MELANCHOLY
• ADLESTROP
• THE GREEN ROADS
• THE MILL-POND
• IT WAS UPON
• TALL NETTLES
• HAYMAKING
• HOW AT ONCE
• GONE, GONE AGAIN
• THE SUN USED TO SHINE
• OCTOBER
• THE LONG SMALL ROOM
• LIBERTY
• NOVEMBER
• THE SHEILING
• THE GALLOWS
• BIRDS’ NESTS
• RAIN
• “HOME”
• THERE’S NOTHING LIKE THE SUN
• WHEN HE SHOULD LAUGH
• AN OLD SONG
• THE PENNY WHISTLE
• LIGHTS OUT
• COCK-CROW
• WORDS