The skylarks are far behind that sang over the down;
I can hear no more those suburb nightingales;
Thrushes and blackbirds sing in the gardens of the town
In vain: the noise of man, beast, and machine prevails.
But the call of children in the unfamiliar streets
That echo with a familiar twilight echoing,
Sweet as the voice of nightingale or lark, completes
A magic of strange welcome, so that I seem a king
Among men, beast, machine, bird, child, and the ghost
That in the echo lives and with the echo dies.
The friendless town is friendly; homeless, I am not lost;
Though I know none of these doors, and meet but strangers' eyes.
Never again, perhaps, after to-morrow, shall
I see these homely streets, these church windows alight,
Not a man or woman or child among them all:
But it is All Friends' Night, a traveller's good-night.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Good-Night by Edward Thomas )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Hey, you there?, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- The Song of Love Sing I, Whsitle I, Bijay Kant Dubey
- Moment Of Madness, Oduro Bright Amoh
- if you ask me, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Don't Forget Me, JAMES T. ADAIR
- Know Thyself, Savita Tyagi
- counting moths, lee fones
- Is This India Where Female Foeticide Is .., Bijay Kant Dubey
- आंखौबो अन, Bahadur Basumatary
- In company, hasmukh amathalal