First Known When Lost - Poem by Edward Thomas
I never had noticed it until
'Twas gone, - the narrow copse
Where now the woodman lops
The last of the willows with his bill
It was not more than a hedge overgrown.
One meadow's breadth away
I passed it day by day.
Now the soil is bare as bone,
And black betwixt two meadows green,
Though fresh-cut fag got ends
Of hazel made some amends
With a gleam as if flowers they had been.
Strange it could have hidden so near!
And now I see as I look
That the small winding brook,
A tributary's tributary, rises there.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye