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Слушать(AI)Like the Touch of Rain
Like the touch of rain she
On a man's flesh and hair and
When the joy of walking
Has taken him by surprise:
With the love of the storm he burns,
He sings, he laughs, well I know how,
But forgets when he
As I shall not forget her 'Go now'.
Those two words shut a
Between me and the blessed
That was never shut
And will not open again.
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
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Digging
What matter makes my spade for tears or mirth, Letting down two clay pipes into the earth The one I smoked, the other a Of Blenheim,
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The skylarks are far behind that sang over the down; I can hear no more those suburb nightingales; Thrushes and blackbirds sing in the gardens of the In vain: the noise of man, beast, and machine prevails
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Thinking of her had saddened me at first, Until I saw the sun on the celandines Redoubled, and she stood up like a flame, A living thing, not what before I nursed,
