Yes, I remember Adlestrop—
The name, because one afternoon.
Of heat express-train drew up there.
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone clear
his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop— only the name.
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
By: Edward Thomas
YOU ARE READING
Poems
RandomI really love poems from different people back from the old days like Edgar Allan Poe or Robert Frost, and more others.
