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Poem by Edward Thomas


Good-Night


The skylarks are far behind that sang over the down;
I can hear no more those suburb nightingales;
Thrushes and blackbirds sing in the gardens of the town
In vain: the noise of man, beast, and machine prevails.

But the call of children in the unfamiliar streets
That echo with a familiar twilight echoing,
Sweet as the voice of nightingale or lark, completes
A magic of strange welcome, so that I seem a king

Among men, beast, machine, bird, child, and the ghost
That in the echo lives and with the echo dies.
The friendless town is friendly; homeless, I am not lost;
Though I know none of these doors, and meet but strangers' eyes.

Never again, perhaps, after to-morrow, shall
I see these homely streets, these church windows alight,
Not a man or woman or child among them all:
But it is All Friends' Night, a traveller's good-night. 



Edward Thomas


Edward Thomas's other poems:
  1. The Cuckoo
  2. For These
  3. In Memoriam (Easter, 1915)
  4. The Other
  5. The Long Small Room


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Percy Shelley Good-Night ("Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill") 1820

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