Poem by Edward Thomas

Bright Clouds

BRIGHT clouds of may
Shade half the pond.
Beyond,
All but one bay
Of emerald
Tall reeds
Like criss-cross bayonets
Where a bird once called,
Lies bright as the sun.
No one heeds.
The light wind frets
And drifts the scum
Of may-blossom.
Till the moorhen calls
Again
Naught's to be done
By birds or men.
Still the may falls.

1. Women He Liked
2. When We Two Walked
3. Swedes
4. Tears
5. It Rains

Print

1128 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version