All Poems
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Old Man
© Edward Thomas
Old Man, or Lads-Love, - in the name theres nothing
To one that knows not Lads-Love, or Old Man,
The hoar green feathery herb, almost a tree,
Growing with rosemary and lavender.
Follow Your Saint
© Thomas Campion
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
October
© Edward Thomas
The green elm with the one great bough of gold
Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, --
The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white,
Harebell and scabious and tormentil,
No One So Much As You
© Edward Thomas
No one so much as you
Loves this my clay,
Or would lament as you
Its dying day.
Sonnet XLIII: While From the Dizzy Precipice
© Mary Darby Robinson
While from the dizzy precipice I gaze,
The world receding from my pensive eyes,
Like the Touch of Rain
© Edward Thomas
Like the touch of rain she was
On a man's flesh and hair and eyes
When the joy of walking thus
Has taken him by surprise:
Within the Circuit of This Plodding Life
© Henry David Thoreau
Within the circuit of this plodding life
There enter moments of an azure hue,
Lights Out
© Edward Thomas
I have come to the borders of sleep,
The unfathomable deep
Forest where all must lose
Their way, however straight,
Or winding, soon or late;
They cannot choose.
In Memoriam
© Edward Thomas
The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.
A Wish
© Alexander Pushkin
The days drag on, each moment multiplies
Within my wounded heart the pain and sadness
Of an unhappy love and, dark, gives rise.
To sleepless dreams, the haunting dreams of madness
If I Should Ever By Chance
© Edward Thomas
IF I should ever by chance grow rich
I'll buy Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch,
Roses, Pyrgo, and Lapwater,
And let them all to my eldest daughter.
We Flash Across The Level
© William Ernest Henley
We flash across the level.
We thunder thro' the bridges.
We bicker down the cuttings.
We sway along the ridges.
Celandine
© Edward Thomas
But this was a dream; the flowers were not true,
Until I stooped to pluck from the grass there
One of five petals and I smelt the juice
Which made me sigh, remembering she was no more,
Gone like a never perfectly recalled air.
Enslaved
© Claude McKay
Oh when I think of my long-suffering race,
For weary centuries despised, oppressed,
Enslaved and lynched, denied a human place
In the great life line of the Christian West;
Bob's Lane
© Edward Thomas
Women he liked, did shovel-bearded Bob,
Old Farmer Hayward of the Heath, but he
Loved horses. He himself was like a cob
And leather-coloured. Also he loved a tree.
Toys
© Margaret Widdemer
SHE loves the flowers, the wind that bends the fir;
When the Spring comes she dances; and her mirth
Beauty
© Edward Thomas
WHAT does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease,
No man, woman, or child alive could please
Me now. And yet I almost dare to laugh
Because I sit and frame an epitaph--
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: LI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
We planted love, and lo it bred a brood
Of lusts and vanities and senseless joys.
We planted love, and you have gathered food
Aspens
© Edward Thomas
All day and night, save winter, every weather,
Above the inn, the smithy and the shop,
The aspens at the cross-roads talk together
Of rain, until their last leaves fall from the top.
