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    Poems
    Poems
    Poems
    Ebook114 pages47 minutes

    Poems

    By Edward Thomas

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Poems
    Author

    Edward Thomas

    Edward Thomas was born near Uxbridge in 1943 and grew up mainly in Hackney, east London in the 1950s. His teaching career took him to cental Africa and the Middle East. Early retirement from the profession enabled him to concentrate on writing. Along with authorship of half a dozen books, he has contributed regular columns to several journals.

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      Book preview

      Poems - Edward Thomas

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Edward Thomas

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Poems

      Author: Edward Thomas

      Release Date: August 29, 2007 [EBook #22423]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ***

      Produced by Lewis Jones

      Edward Thomas (1917) Poems

      POEMS BY EDWARD THOMAS

      POEMS

      BY

      EDWARD THOMAS

      (EDWARD EASTAWAY)

      LONDON

      SELWYN & BLOUNT

      1917

      First printed, Oct., 1917.

      Reprinted, Nov., 1917.

          " Dec., 1917.

      TO

      ROBERT FROST

      CONTENTS

      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

      FIFTY FAGGOTS

      WOMEN HE LIKED

      EARLY ONE MORNING

      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

      THE TRUMPET

      RISE up, rise up,

      And, as the trumpet blowing

      Chases the dreams of men,

      As the dawn glowing

      The stars that left unlit

      The land and water,

      Rise up and scatter

      The dew that covers

      The print of last night's lovers—

      Scatter it, scatter it!

      While you are listening

      To the clear horn,

      Forget, men, everything

      On this earth newborn,

      Except that it is lovelier

      Than any mysteries.

      Open your eyes to the air

      That has washed the eyes of the stars

      Through all the dewy night:

      Up with the light,

      To the old wars;

      Arise, arise!

      THE SIGN-POST

      THE dim sea glints chill. The white sun is shy.

      And the skeleton weeds and the never-dry,

      Rough, long grasses keep white with frost

      At the hilltop by the finger-post;

      The smoke of the traveller's-joy is puffed

      Over hawthorn berry and hazel tuft.

      I read the sign. Which way shall I go?

      A voice says: You would not have doubted so

      At twenty. Another voice gentle with scorn

      Says: At twenty you wished you had never been born.

      One hazel lost a leaf of gold

      From a tuft at the tip, when the first voice told

      The other he wished to know what 'twould be

      To be sixty by this same post. You shall see,

      He laughed—and I had to join his laughter—

      "You shall see; but either before or after,

      Whatever happens, it must befall,

      A mouthful of earth to remedy all

      Regrets and wishes shall freely be given;

      And if there be a flaw in that heaven

      'Twill be freedom to wish, and your wish may be

      To be here or anywhere talking to me,

      No matter what the weather, on earth,

      At any age between death and birth,—

      To see what day or night can be,

      The sun and the frost, the land and the sea,

      Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring,—

      With a poor man of any sort, down to a king,

      Standing upright out in the air

      Wondering where he shall journey, O where?"

      TEARS

      IT seems I have no tears left. They should have fallen—

      Their ghosts, if tears have ghosts, did fall—that day

      When twenty hounds streamed by me, not yet combed

         out

      But still all equals in their rage of gladness

      Upon the scent, made one, like a great dragon

      In Blooming Meadow that bends towards

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