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After You Speak

After you speak

And what you meant

Is plain,

My eyes

Meet yours that mean,

With your cheeks and hair,

Something more wise,

More dark,

Edward Thomas

Digging

What matter makes my spade for tears or mirth,

Letting down two clay pipes into the earth?

The one I smoked, the other a soldier

Of Blenheim, Ramillies, and Malplaquet

Perhaps. The dead man's immortality

Lies represented lightly with my own,

A yard or two nearer the living air

Than bones of ancients who, amazed to see

Edward Thomas

After Rain

The rain of a night and a day and a night

Stops at the light

Of this pale choked day. The peering sun

Sees what has been done.

The road under the trees has a border new

of purple hue

Inside the border of bright thin grass:

For all that has

Edward Thomas

Aspens

All day and night, save winter, every weather,

Above the inn, the smithy and the shop,

The aspens at the cross-roads talk together

Of rain, until their last leaves fall from the top.

Out of the blacksmith's cavern comes the ringing

Of hammer, shoe and anvil; out of the inn

The clink, the hum, the roar, the random singing -

The sounds that for these fifty years have been.

Edward Thomas

October

The green elm with the one great bough of gold

Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, —

The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white,

Harebell and scabious and tormentil,

That blackberry and gorse, in dew and sun,

Bow down to; and the wind travels too light

To shake the fallen birch leaves from the fern;

The gossamers wander at their own will.

Edward Thomas

Haymaking

After night's thunder far away had rolled

The fiery day had a kernel sweet of cold,

And in the perfect blue the clouds uncurled,

Like the first gods before they made the world

And misery, swimming the stormless sea

In beauty and in divine gaiety.

The smooth white empty road was lightly strewn

With leaves - the holly's Autumn falls in June -

Edward Thomas

Cock-crow

Out of the wood of thoughts that grows by night

To be cut down by the sharp axe of light, -

Out of the night, two cocks together crow,

Cleaving the darkness with a silver blow:

And bright before my eyes twin trumpeters stand,

Heralds of splendour, one at either hand,

Each facing each as in a coat of arms:-

The milkers lace their boots up at the farms.

Edward Thomas

Digging 2

To-day I think

Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield,

And bracken, and wild carrot's seed,

And the square mustard field;

Odours that rise

When the spade wounds the root of tree,

Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,

Rhubarb or celery;

Edward Thomas

Early One Morning

Early one morning in May I set out,

And nobody I knew was about.

I'm bound away for ever,

Away somewhere, away for ever.

There was no wind to trouble the weathercocks.

I had burnt my letters and darned my socks.

No one knew I was going away,

I thought myself I should come back some day.

Edward Thomas

In Memoriam

The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood

This Eastertide call into mind the men,

Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should

Have gathered them and will do never again.

Edward Thomas

Beauty

What does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease,

No man, woman, or child alive could please

Me now. And yet I almost dare to laugh

Because I sit and frame an epitaph—

"Here lies all that no one loved of him

And that loved no one." Then in a trice that whim

Has wearied. But, though I am like a river

At fall of evening when it seems that never

Edward Thomas

A Private

This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doors

Many a frozen night, and merrily

Answered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores:

"At Mrs Greenland's Hawthorn Bush," said he,

"I slept." None knew which bush. Above the town,

Beyond `The Drover', a hundred spot the down

In Wiltshire. And where now at last he sleeps

More sound in France -that, too, he secret keeps.

Edward Thomas