A Mirror of England
The collected poems of Edward Thomas
"When Edward Thomas was killed in Flanders, a mirror of England was shattered of so pure and true a crystal that a clearer and tenderer reflection of it
can be found no other where than in these poems…"
– Walter de la Mare
Adlestrop – Yes, I remember Adlestrop -…
After Rain – The rain of a night and a day and a night…
After You Speak – After you speak…
Ambition – Unless it was that day I never knew…
And You, Helen – And you, Helen, what should I give you?…
April – The sweetest thing, I thought…
The Ash Grove – Half of the grove stood dead, and those that yet lived made…
Aspens – All day and all night, save winter, every weather,…
As the Clouds that are so Light – As the clouds that are so light,…
The Barn – They should never have built a barn there, at all -…
The Barn and the Down – It stood in the sunset sky…
Beauty – What does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease,…
Birds’ Nests – The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind,…
The Bridge – I have come a long way to-day:…
Bright Clouds – Bright clouds of may…
The Brook – Seated once by a brook, watching a child…
But These Things Also – But these things also are Spring’s -…
A Cat – She had a name among the children;…
Celandine – Thinking of her had saddened me at first,…
The Chalk-Pit – ‘Is this the road that climbs above and bends…
The Cherry Trees – The cherry trees bend over and are shedding,…
The Child in the Orchard – ‘He rolls in the orchard: he is stained with moss…
The Child on the Cliffs – Mother, the root of this little yellow flower…
Cock-Crow – Out of the wood of thoughts that grows by night…
The Combe – The Combe was ever dark, ancient and dark….
The Cuckoo – That’s the cuckoo, you say. I cannot hear it….
The Dark Forest – Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead;…
Digging – What matter makes my spade for tears or mirth,…
Digging – To-day I think/Only with scents…
A Dream – Over known fields with an old friend in dream…
Early One Morning – Early one morning in May I set out,…
Fifty Faggots – There they stand, on their ends, the fifty faggots…
First Known when Lost – I never had noticed it until…
For These – An acre of land between the shore and the hills,…
The Gallows – There was a weasel lived in the sun…
A Gentleman – ‘He has robbed two clubs. The judge at Salisbury…
The Glory – The glory of the beauty of the morning, -…
Gone, Gone Again – Gone, gone again,/May, June, July,…
Good-Night – The skylarks are far behind that sang over the down;…
The Green Roads – The green roads that end in the forest…
The Gypsy – A fortnight before Christmas Gypsies were everywhere:…
Haymaking – After night’s thunder far away had rolled…
Health – Four miles at a leap, over the dark hollow land,…
Head and Bottle – The downs will lose the sun, white alyssum…
The Hollow Wood – Out in the sun the goldfinch flits…
Home – Not the end: but there’s nothing more….
‘Home’ – Fair was the morning, fair our tempers, and…
Home – Often I had gone this way before…
House and Man – One hour: as dim he and his house now look…
How at Once – How at once should I know,…
The Huxter – He has a hump like an ape on his back;…
Interval – Gone the wild day:…
If I Should Ever by Chance – If I should ever by chance grow rich…
If I were to Own – If I were to own this countryside…
In Memoriam (Easter, 1915) – The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood…
It Rains – It rains, and nothing stirs within the fence….
It Was Upon – It was upon a July evening….
I Never Saw that Land Before – I Never Saw that Land Before,…
I Built Myself a House of Glass – I Built Myself a House of Glass:…
July – Naught moves but clouds, and in the glassy lake…
The Lane – Some day, I think, there will be people enough…
Liberty – The last light has gone out of the world, except…
Lights Out – I have come to the borders of sleep,…
Like the touch of rain – Like the touch of rain she was….
Lob – At hawthorn-time in Wiltshire travelling…
The Lofty Sky – To-day I want the sky,…
The Long Small Room – The long small room that showed willows in the west…
Lovers – The two men in the road were taken aback….
To the best of our knowledge, Edward Thomas’s poetry is ex-copyright in the United Kingdom. In so far as any rights can be established in this on-line collection, they are reserved by The Richmond Review .
Local Links: About Edward Thomas
Global Links: An Internet History of WW1 |