First linesEdward Thomas

A fortnight before Christmas Gypsies were everywhere: The Gypsy
After night’s thunder far away had rolled Haymaking
After you speak After You Speak
All day and night, save winter, every weather, Aspens
All day the air triumphs with its two voices The Source
An acre of land between the shore and the hills, For These
And you, Helen, what should I give you? And You, Helen
As the team’s head-brass flashed out on the turn As the Team’s Head-Brass
At hawthorn-time in Wiltshire travelling Lob
At poet’s tears, Song
Between a sunny bank and the sun Two Houses
Bright clouds of may Bright Clouds
But these things also are Spring’s⁠— But These Things Also
By the Ford at the town’s edge The Watchers
Chapel and gravestones, old and few, The Mountain Chapel
Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead The Dark Forest
Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved; The Owl
Early one morning in May I set out, Early One Morning
Fair was the morning, fair our tempers, and “Home”
Four miles at a leap, over the dark hollow land, Health
Gone the wild day: Interval
Gone, gone again, Gone, Gone Again
Half of the grove stood dead, and those that yet lived made The Ash Grove
Harry, you know at night To-Night
He has a hump like an ape on his back; The Huckster
“He has robbed two clubs. The judge at Salisbury A Gentleman
“He rolls in the orchard: he is stained with moss The Child in the Orchard
He was the one man I met up in the woods The New Year
Here again (she said) is March the third March the Third
How at once should I know, How at Once
I built myself a house of glass: I Built Myself a House of Glass
I have come a long way to-day: The Bridge
I have come to the borders of sleep, Lights Out
I love roads: Roads
I never had noticed it until First Known When Lost
I never saw that land before, I Never Saw That Land Before
I was not apprenticed nor ever dwelt in famous Lincolnshire; An Old Song
If I should ever by chance grow rich If I Should Ever by Chance
If I were to own this countryside If I Were to Own
In the gloom of whiteness, Snow
“Is this the road that climbs above and bends The Chalk-Pit
It rains, and nothing stirs within the fence It Rains
It seems I have no tears left. They should have fallen⁠— Tears
It stands alone The Sheiling
It stood in the sunset sky The Barn and the Down
It was a perfect day Sowing
It was upon a July evening. It Was Upon
Like the touch of rain she was Like the Touch of Rain
Men heard this roar of parleying starlings, saw, February Afternoon
Mother, the root of this little yellow flower The Child on the Cliffs
Naught moves but clouds, and in the glassy lake July
“No one cares less than I, No One Cares Less Than I
Not the end: but there’s nothing more. Home
November’s days are thirty: November
Now first, as I shut the door, The New House
Now I know that Spring will come again, March
Often and often it came back again Over the Hills
Often I had gone this way before: Home
Old Man, or Lad’s-love⁠—in the name there’s nothing Old Man
One hour: as dim he and his house now look House and Man
Only the sound remains The Mill-Water
Out in the dark over the snow Out in the Dark
Out in the sun the goldfinch flits The Hollow Wood
Out of the wood of thoughts that grows by night Cock-Crow
Out of us all Words
Over known fields with an old friend in dream A Dream
Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed Thaw
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain Rain
Rise up, rise up, The Trumpet
Running along a bank, a parapet The Path
Seated once by a brook, watching a child The Brook
She dotes on what the wild birds say She Dotes
She had a name among the children; A Cat
She is most fair, The Unknown
Some day, I think, there will be people enough The Lane
Some eyes condemn the earth they gaze upon: Some Eyes Condemn
Tall nettles cover up, as they have done Tall Nettles
That girl’s clear eyes utterly concealed all That Girl’s Clear Eyes
That’s the cuckoo, you say. I cannot hear it. The Cuckoo
The cherry trees bend over and are shedding The Cherry Trees
The clouds that are so light, The Clouds That Are So Light
The Combe was ever dark, ancient and dark. The Combe
The dim sea glints chill. The white sun is shy. The Sign-Post
The downs will lose the sun, white alyssum Head and Bottle
The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood In Memoriam (Easter, 1915)
The forest ended. Glad I was The Other
The glory of the beauty of the morning⁠— The Glory
The green elm with the one great bough of gold October
The green roads that end in the forest The Green Roads
The last light has gone out of the world, except Liberty
The long small room that showed willows in the west The Long Small Room
The new moon hangs like an ivory bugle The Penny Whistle
The Past is a strange land, most strange. Parting
The rain and wind, the rain and wind, raved endlessly. Melancholy
The rain of a night and a day and a night After Rain
The rock-like mud unfroze a little and rills The Manor Farm
The skylarks are far behind that sang over the down; Good Night
The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind. Birds’ Nests
The sun blazed while the thunder yet The Mill-Pond
The sun set, the wind fell, the sea An Old Song
The sun used to shine while we two walked The Sun Used to Shine
The sweetest thing, I thought April
The two men in the road were taken aback. Lovers
There are so many things I have forgot, The Word
There never was a finer day, May 23
There once the walls A Tale
There they stand, on their ends, the fifty faggots Fifty Faggots
There was a time when this poor frame was whole There Was a Time
There was a weasel lived in the sun The Gallows
There’s nothing like the sun as the year dies, There’s Nothing Like the Sun
These things that poets said These Things That Poets Said
They have taken the gable from the roof of clay Swedes
They met inside the gateway that gives the view, Wind and Mist
They should never have built a barn there, at all⁠— The Barn
Thinking of her had saddened me at first, Celandine
This beauty made me dream there was a time Sedge-Warblers
This is no case of petty right or wrong This Is No Case of Petty Right or Wrong
This moonlight makes The Wasp Trap
This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doors A Private
Three lovely notes he whistled, too soft to be heard The Unknown Bird
To-day I think Digging
To-day I want the sky, The Lofty Sky
“ ’Twill take some getting.” “Sir, I think ’twill so.” Man and Dog
Under the after-sunset sky Two Pewits
Unless it was that day I never knew Ambition
What does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease, Beauty
What matter makes my spade for tears or mirth, Digging
What shall I give my daughter the younger What Shall I Give?
What will they do when I am gone? It is plain What Will They Do?
When first I came here I had hope, When First
When he should laugh the wise man knows full well: When He Should Laugh
When these old woods were young Under the Woods
When we two walked in Lent When We Two Walked
When Winter’s ahead, The Thrush
Will you come? Will You Come?
Women he liked, did shovel-bearded Bob, Women He Liked
Yes. I remember Adlestrop⁠— Adlestrop

All poets.