First World War Poetry Digital Archive

No One So Much As You

[M. E. T.] by EDWARD THOMAS

No one so much as you Loves this my clay, Or would lament as you Its dying day.

You know me through and through Though I have not told, And though with what you know You are not bold.

None ever was so fair As I thought you: Not a word can I bear Spoken against you.

All that I ever did For you seemed coarse Compared with what I hid Nor put in force.

Scarce my eyes dare meet you Lest they should prove I but respond to you And do not love.

We look and understand, We cannot speak Except in trifles and Words the most weak.

I at the most accept Your love, regretting That is all: I have kept Only a fretting

That I could not return All that you gave And could not ever burn With the love you have,

Till sometimes it did seem Better it were Never to see you more Than linger here

With only gratitude Instead of love--- A pine in solitude Cradling a dove.

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