Ivor Gurney

(1890-1937 / England)

Turmut-Hoeing - Poem by Ivor Gurney

I straightened my back from turmut-hoeing
And saw, with suddenly opened eyes,
Tall trees, a meadow ripe for mowing,
And azure June's cloud-circled skies.

Below, the earth was beautiful
Of touch and colour, fair each weed,
But Heaven's high beauty held me still,
Only of music had I need.

And the white-clad girl at the old farm,
Who smiled and looked across at me,
Dumb was held by that strong charm
Of cloud-ships sailing a foamless sea.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 31, 2010

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