Under the Woods
UNDER THE WOOD by EDWARD THOMAS
When these old woods were young
The thrushes' ancestors
As sweetly sung
In the old years.
There was no garden here,
Apples nor misletoe;
No children dear
Ran to and fro.
New then was this thatched cot,
But the keeper was old,
And he had not
Much lead or gold.
Most silent beech and yew:
As he went round about
The woods to view
Seldom he shot.
But now that he is gone
Out of most memories,
Still lingers on
A stoat of his,
But one, shrivelled and green,
And with no scent at all,
And barely seen
On this shed wall.
| Title |
Under the Woods
|
|---|---|
| Author |
Thomas, Edward (1878-1917)
|
| Item date |
1979
|
| Content | |
| Copyright |
Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd.
|
| Digital repository | |
| Repository name |
ProQuest
|
| Repository address URL | |
| First line |
When these old woods were young
|
| Publication source |
Edward Thomas Collected Poems
|
| Publication editor |
Thomas, George
|
| Publishers |
Faber and Faber
|
| Publication place |
London
|
Collection
Citation
“Under the Woods,” by Thomas, Edward (1878-1917). Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd. via First World War Poetry Digital Archive, accessed May 2, 2024, http://ww1lit.nsms.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/collections/item/2968.
Permitted Use
This item is available for non-commercial educational use under the terms of the Jisc Model Licence. Further details available at: http://ww1lit.nsms.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/permitteduse
