THE LONG SMALL ROOM by EDWARD THOMAD
The long small room that showed willows in the west Narrowed up to the end the fireplace filled, Although not wide. I liked it. No one guessed What need or accident made them so build.
Only the moon, the mouse and the sparrow peeped In from the ivy round the casement thick. Of all they saw and heard there they shall keep The tale for the old ivy and older brick.
When I look back I am like moon, sparrow and mouse That witnessed what they could never understand Or alter or prevent in the dark house. One thing remains the same---this my right hand
Crawling crab-like over the clean white page, Resting awhile each morning on the pillow, Then once more starting to crawl on towards age. The hundred last leaves stream upon the willow.
|Author||Thomas, Edward (1878-1917)|
|Title||The long small room|
|Copyright||Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd.|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|