Edward Thomas

(3 March 1878 - 9 April 1917 / London / England)

Edward Thomas Poems

41. Interval 4/7/2010
42. It Was Upon 4/7/2010
43. Liberty 4/7/2010
44. Lights Out 12/31/2002
45. Like The Touch Of Rain 1/3/2003
46. Lob 4/7/2010
47. Lovers 4/7/2010
48. Man And Dog 4/7/2010
49. March 1/7/2015
50. No One So Much As You 3/16/2003
51. October 12/31/2002
52. Old Man 3/23/2003
53. Over The Hills 4/7/2010
54. Rain 12/31/2002
55. Roads 6/16/2014
56. Snow 12/31/2002
57. Sowing 12/31/2002
58. Tall Nettles 12/31/2002
59. Thaw 12/31/2002
60. The Ash Grove 4/7/2010
61. The Barn 4/7/2010
62. The Barn And The Down 4/7/2010
63. The Bridge 4/7/2010
64. The Brook 4/7/2010
65. The Chalk-Pit 4/7/2010
66. The Cherry Trees 12/31/2002
67. The Child In The Orchard 4/7/2010
68. The Child On The Cliffs 4/7/2010
69. The Combe 4/7/2010
70. The Cuckoo 4/7/2010
71. The Dark Forest 1/3/2003
72. The Gallows 4/7/2010
73. The Glory 3/19/2003
74. The Green Roads 4/7/2010
75. The Gypsy 4/7/2010
76. The Hollow Wood 4/7/2010
77. The Huxter 4/7/2010
78. The Lane 1/3/2003
79. The Lofty Sky 4/7/2010
80. The Long Small Room 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Edward Thomas

Rain

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Either in pain or thus in sympathy
Helpless among the living and the dead,
Like a cold water among broken reeds,
Myriads of broken reeds all ...

Read the full of Rain

Bob's Lane

Women he liked, did shovel-bearded Bob,
Old Farmer Hayward of the Heath, but he
Loved horses. He himself was like a cob
And leather-coloured. Also he loved a tree.

For the life in them he loved most living things,
But a tree chiefly. All along the lane
He planted elms where now the stormcock sings
That travellers hear from the slow-climbing train.

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