Monday, February 3, 2014

Home Thoughts

 
 
The Manor Farm
 
The rock-like mud unfroze a little, and rills
Ran and sparkled down each side of the road
Under the catkins wagging in the hedge.
But earth would have her sleep out, spite of the sun;
Nor did I value that thin gliding beam
More than a pretty February thing
Till I came down to the old manor farm,
And church and yew-tree opposite, in age
Its equals and in size. The church and yew
And farmhouse slept in a Sunday silentness.
The air raised not a straw. The steep farm roof,
With tiles duskily glowing, entertained
The mid-day sun; and up and down the roof
White pigeons nestled. There was no sound but one.
Three cart horses were looking over a gate
Drowsily through their forelocks, swishing their tails
Against a fly, a solitary fly.

The winter's cheek flushed as if he had drained
Spring, summer, and autumn at a draught
And smiled quietly. But 'twas not winter--
Rather a season of bliss unchangeable,
Awakened from farm and church where it had lain
Safe under tile and latch for ages since
This England, Old already, was called Merry.


~ Edward Thomas 1878-1917

2 comments:

Ann Summerville said...

When I see "Home Thoughts" it reminds me of Home Thoughts from Abroad by Robert Browning.
Ann

Maria said...

Hello and greetings, I was so excited I discovered your Blog, thoughrly enjoyed it. Love the pictures and everything. Thank you keep it going.