- Now I know that Spring will come again
As if the mighty sun wept tears of joy
- They had but one hour to sing. On boughs they sang,
For singing merely. So they could keep off silence and night
- Stained with all that hour's song, a silence
- Even to one that knows it well, the names
Half decorate, half perplex, the thing it is:
- I have mislaid the key. I sniff the spray
And think of nothing; I see and I hear nothing,
- Neither father nor mother, nor any playmate;
- It seems I have no tears left. They should have fallen -
- When twenty hounds streamed by me, not yet combed out
- Soldiers in line, young English countrymen,
Fair-haired and ruddy, in white tunics. Drums
- And silence, told me truths I had not dreamed,
And have forgotten since their beauty passed.
But These Things Also
- In the grass; chip of flint, and mite
Of chalk; and the small bird's dung;
- All the white things a man mistakes
For earliest violets
- The rain and wind, the rain and wind, raved endlessly.
On me the Summer storm, and fever, and melancholy
- What I desired I knew not, but whate'er my choice
Vain it must be, I knew. Yet naught did my despair
- The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
- The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy
- That we know nought of the hazel copse?
- Or must I be content with discontent
As larks and swallows are perhaps with wings?
- A crack in a wall
Or a drain,
- Choose me,
You English words?
- You are light as dreams,
Tough as oak,
Precious as gold,
- Worn new
Again and again:
- All day and night, save winter, every weather,
- Of rain, until their last leaves fall from the top.
- The clink, the hum, the roar, the random singing
- Aspens may shake their leaves and men may hear
But need not listen, more than to my rhymes.
This is no case of petty right or wrong
- This is no case of petty right or wrong
That politicians or philosophers
Can judge. I hate not Germans, nor grow hot
- Beside my hate for one fat patriot (So rampant in his cheery patriotism)
- The phoenix broods serene above their ken.
- And as we love ourselves we hate her foe.
- Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me,
- Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
No one so much as you
- No one so much as you
Loves this my clay:
- You know me through and through
Though I have not told,
- A pine in solitude
Cradling a dove.
The sun used to shine
- The sun used to shine while we two walked
Slowly together, paused and started
Again, and sometimes mused, sometimes talked
- Each night. We never disagreed
Which gate to rest on. The to be
- The fallen apples, all the talks
And silences - like memory's sand
As the team's head - brass
- The lovers disappeared into the wood.
- Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square
- 'Have you been out?' 'No.' 'And don't want to perhaps?'
- A leg. If I should lose my head, why, so,
I should want nothing more...Have many gone
- The lovers came out of the wood again:
Gone, gone again
- Gone, gone again
- In the harvest rain,
The Bleinham oranges
Fall grubby from the trees,
- Look at the old house,
...With grass growing instead
- Not one pane to reflect the sun,
For the schoolboys to throw at -
They have broken every one.
- Forest where all must lose
Their way, however straight,
Or winding, soon or late;
They cannot choose.
- Up to the forest brink,
Deceived the travellers
Suddenly now blurs,
And in they sink.
- Here love ends,
Despair, ambition ends,
All pleasure and all trouble,