1 min read
Слушать(AI)Snow
In the gloom of whiteness,
In the great silence of snow,
A child was
And bitterly saying:`Oh,
They have killed a white bird up there on her nest,
The down is fluttering from her breast!`And still it fell through that dusky
On the child crying for the bird of the snow.
Edward Thomas
Philip Edward Thomas (3 March 1878 – 9 April 1917) was a British poet, essayist, and novelist. He is considered a war poet, although few of his
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Owl
Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved; Cold, yet had heat within me that was Against the North wind; tired, yet so that Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof
Digging 2
To-day I Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield, And bracken, and wild carrot's seed, And the square mustard field;
Health
Four miles at a leap, over the dark hollow land, To the frosted steep of the down and its junipers black, Travels my eye with equal ease and delight: And scarce could my body leap four yards
Gone Gone Again
Gone, gone again, May, June, July,