Poem by Edward Thomas

A Private

This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doors
Many a frosty night, and merrily
Answered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores:
'At Mrs Greenland's Hawthorn Bush,' said he,
'I slept.' None knew which bush. Above the town,
Beyond 'The Drover', a hundred spot the down
In Wiltshire. And where now at last he sleeps
More sound in France—that, too, he secret keeps.

1. When We Two Walked
2. Head and Bottle
3. The Green Roads
4. There's Nothing like the Sun
5. The Sun Used to Shine

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