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Beauty by Edward Thomas

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WHAT does it mean? Tired, angry, and ill at ease,
No man, woman, or child alive could please
Me now. And yet I almost dare to laugh
Because I sit and frame an epitaph–
“Here lies all that no one loved of him
And that loved no one.” Then in a trice that whim
Has wearied. But, though I am like a river
At fall of evening when it seems that never
Has the sun lighted it or warmed it, while
Cross breezes cut the surface to a file,
This heart, some fraction of me, hapily
Floats through a window even now to a tree
Down in the misting, dim-lit, quiet vale;
Not like a pewit that returns to wail
For something it has lost, but like a dove
That slants unanswering to its home and love.
There I find my rest, and through the dusk air
Flies what yet lives in me. Beauty is there

One more by Edward Thomas that I liked!

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About keatslover

I'm an avid Keats fan( as is pretty obvious, I'm sure) and a student of English Literature. I love to read and to write and to dance. I'm just an ordinary teen from India who wants a platform to express how she feels about things. In short, I need to get my voice out there. Hope all the readers like what i write. And hope that there are readers.

3 responses »

  1. Am I imagining a post suggesting you needed to divert attention to schoolwork temporarily?

    Reply

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