Saturday, 1 March 2008
Adlestrop - Edward Thomas
Edward Thomas (1878-1917)
Yes, I remember Adlestrop --
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop -- only the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
I love Edward Thomas's poems. Returning one day from a far-away place, I drove past the turning to Adlestrop. I had a long way to go. It was getting late. I often wish I'd stopped and explored . . .