Edward Thomas

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

Lovers - Poem by Edward Thomas

The two men in the road were taken aback.
The lovers came out shading their eyes from the sun,
And never was white so white, or black so black,
As her cheeks and hair. `There are more things than one
A man might turn into a wood for, Jack,'
Said George; Jack whispered: `He has not got a gun.
It's a bit too much of a good thing, I say.
They are going the other road, look. And see her run.'
She ran. - 'What a thing it is, this picking may!'

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010

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