Michael Longley

Poetry_Michael-LongleyWhen he was billeted in a ruined house in Arras

And found a hole in the wall beside his bed

And, rummaging inside, his hand rested on Keats

By Edward Thomas, did Edmund Blunden unearth

A volume which ‘the tall, Shelley-like figure’

Gathering up for the last time his latherbrush,

Razor, towel, comb, cardigan, cap comforter,

Water bottle, socks, gas mask, great coat, rifle

And bayonet, hurrying out of the same building

To join his men and march into battle, left

Behind him like a gift, the author’s own copy?

When Thomas Hardy died his widow gave Blunden

As a memento of many visits to Max Gate

His treasured copy of Edward Thomas’s Poems.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poem

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s