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54918: The Penny Whistle

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posted on 2024-04-25, 17:29 authored by First World War Poetry Digital Archive Project Team

The new moon hangs like an ivory bugle
In the naked frosty blue;
And the ghylls of the forest, already blackened
By Winter, are blackened anew.
The brooks that cut up and increase the forest,
As if they had never known
The sun, are roaring with black hollow voices
Betwixt rage and a moan.
But still the caravan-hut by the hollies
Like a kingfisher gleams between:
Round the mossed old hearths of the charcoal-burners
First primroses ask to be seen.
The charcoal-burners are black, but their linen
Blows white on the line;
And white the letter the girl is reading
Under that crescent fine;
And her brother who hides apart in a thicket,
Slowly and surely playing
On a whistle an old nursery melody
Says far more than I am saying.

History

Identifier

2943.txt

Creator

Thomas, Edward (1878-1917)

Date

1979

Date Created

01/01/1979

Temporal Date

31/12/1979

Type

Poem

Rights

Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd.

Repository Name

ProQuest

Publisher

The First World War Poetry Digital Archive

Usage metrics

    The Edward Thomas Collection

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