Poem by 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:

With the love of the storm he burns,
He sings, he laughs, well I know how,
But forgets when he returns
As I shall not forget her 'Go now'.

Those two words shut a door
Between me and the blessed rain
That was never shut before
And will not open again. 

1. May 23
2. Swedes
3. If I Were to Own
4. It Rains
5. Bright Clouds

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