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Poem by Edward Thomas


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I built myself a house of glass:
It took my years to make it:
And I was proud. But now, alas!
Would God someone would break it.

But it looks too magnificent.
No neighbour casts a stone
From where he dwells, in tenement
Or palace of glass, alone. 



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


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