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Edward Thomas
Edward Thomas Poems
| 81. | The Manor Farm | 12/31/2002 |
| 82. | The New House | 12/31/2002 |
| 83. | The Other | 4/7/2010 |
| 84. | The Owl | 12/31/2002 |
| 85. | The Path | 12/31/2002 |
| 86. | The Sign-Post | 12/31/2002 |
| 87. | The Sorrow of True Love | 5/4/2015 |
| 88. | The Trumpet | 12/31/2002 |
| 89. | The Word | 12/31/2002 |
| 90. | This Is No Case Of Petty Right Or Wrong | 4/7/2010 |
| 91. | To-Night | 4/7/2010 |
| 92. | Two Pewits | 4/7/2010 |
| 93. | Unknown | 1/3/2003 |
| 94. | When First I Came Here | 12/31/2002 |
| 95. | Words | 1/3/2003 |
Adlestrop
Yes, I remember Adlestrop --
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop -- only the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of ...
The Dark Forest
Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead
Hang stars like seeds of light
In vain, though not since they were sown was bred
Anything more bright.
And evermore mighty multitudes ride
About, nor enter in;
Of the other multitudes that dwell inside
Never yet was one seen.
