Louis Untermeyer, ed. (18851977). Modern British Poetry. 1920. |
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Francis Ledwidge. 18911917 |
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162. Evening Clouds |
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A LITTLE flock of clouds go down to rest | |
In some blue corner off the moon's highway, | |
With shepherd-winds that shook them in the West | |
To borrowed shapes of earth, in bright array, | |
Perhaps to weave a rainbow's gay festoons | 5 |
Around the lonesome isle which Brooke has made | |
A little England full of lovely noons, | |
Or dot it with his country's mountain shade. | |
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Ah, little wanderers, when you reach that isle | |
Tell him, with dripping dew, they have not failed, | 10 |
What he loved most; for late I roamed a while | |
Thro' English fields and down her rivers sailed; | |
And they remember him with beauty caught | |
From old desires of Oriental Spring | |
Heard in his heart with singing overwrought; | 15 |
And still on Purley Common gooseboys sing. | |
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