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Edward Thomas (Эдвард Томас)


Sowing


IT was a perfect day
For sowing; just
As sweet and dry was the ground
As tobacco-dust.

I tasted deep the hour
Between the far
Owl's chuckling first soft cry
And the first star.

A long stretched hour it was;
Nothing undone
Remained; the early seeds
All safely sown.

And now, hark at the rain,
Windless and light,
Half a kiss, half a tear,
Saying good-night. 



Edward Thomas's other poems:
  1. May 23
  2. Bright Clouds
  3. It Rains
  4. The Manor Farm
  5. Some Eyes Condemn


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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1556


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