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Edward Thomas Quotes
d. 1917 England
Philip Edward Thomas (3 March 1878 – 9 April 1917) was an English poet, critical biographer and topographical writer. Some of his poems were published under the name Edward Eastaway.
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The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet.
There is nothing at the end of any road better than may be found beside it.
To envy a man is to misunderstand him or yourself.
The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood This Eastertide call into mind the men, Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should Have gathered them and will do never again.
The simple lack Of her is more to me Than others' presence.
As well as any bloom upon a flower I like the dust on the nettles, never lost Except to prove the sweetness of a shower.
I built myself a house of glass: It took me years to make it: And I was proud. But now, alas! Would God someone would break it.
I like to think how easily Nature will absorb London as she absorbed the mastodon, setting her spiders to spin the winding-sheet and her worms to fill in the grave, and her grass to cover it pitifully up, adding flowers—as an unknown hand added them to the grave of Nero.
Far more I feared all company: too sharp, too rude, Had been the wisest or the dearest human voice. What I desired I knew not, but whate'er my choice Vain it must be, I knew.
Yes. I remember Adlestrop – The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June.
If I should ever by chance grow rich I'll buy Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch, Roses, Pyrgo, and Lapwater, And let them all to my eldest daughter.
I, too, often shrivel the grey shreds, Sniff them and think and sniff again and try Once more to think what it is I am remembering, Always in vain. I cannot like the scent, Yet I would rather give up others more sweet, With no meaning, than this bitter one.
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