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Edward Thomas

(3 March 1878 - 9 April 1917 / London / England)

Poems of Edward Thomas

81. The New House 12/31/2002
82. The Other 4/7/2010
83. The Owl 12/31/2002
84. The Path 12/31/2002
85. The Sign-Post 12/31/2002
86. The Trumpet 12/31/2002
87. The Word 12/31/2002
88. This is No Case of Petty Right or Wrong 4/7/2010
89. To-Night 4/7/2010
90. Two Pewits 4/7/2010
91. Unknown 1/3/2003
92. When First I Came Here 12/31/2002
93. Words 1/3/2003

Bob's Lane

Women he liked, did shovel-bearded Bob,
Old Farmer Hayward of the Heath, but he
Loved horses. He himself was like a cob
And leather-coloured. Also he loved a tree.

For the life in them he loved most living things,
But a tree chiefly. All along the lane
He planted elms where now the stormcock sings
That travellers hear from the slow-climbing train.

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