—Public Domain Photo
IT RAINS
—Edward Thomas (1878-1917)
It rains, and nothing stirs within the fence
Anywhere through the orchard’s untrodden, dense
Forest of parsley. The great diamonds
Of rain on the grassblades there is none to break,
Or the fallen petals further down to shake.
And I am nearly as happy as possible
To search the wilderness in vain though well,
To think of two walking, missing there,
Drenched, yet forgetting the kisses of the rain :
Sad, too, to think that never never again,
Unless alone, so happy shall I walk
In the rain. When I turn away, on its fine stalk
Twilight has fined to naught, the parsley flower
Figures, suspended still and ghostly white,
The past hovering as it revisits the light.
_____________________
—Medusa, celebrating those great diamonds of rain on the grassblades ~
For more about Edward Thomas, see www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/edward-thomas/.
—Edward Thomas (1878-1917)
It rains, and nothing stirs within the fence
Anywhere through the orchard’s untrodden, dense
Forest of parsley. The great diamonds
Of rain on the grassblades there is none to break,
Or the fallen petals further down to shake.
And I am nearly as happy as possible
To search the wilderness in vain though well,
To think of two walking, missing there,
Drenched, yet forgetting the kisses of the rain :
Sad, too, to think that never never again,
Unless alone, so happy shall I walk
In the rain. When I turn away, on its fine stalk
Twilight has fined to naught, the parsley flower
Figures, suspended still and ghostly white,
The past hovering as it revisits the light.
_____________________
—Medusa, celebrating those great diamonds of rain on the grassblades ~
For more about Edward Thomas, see www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/edward-thomas/.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
