Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flower of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.
I have just really discovered the poet Edward Thomas. I picked up a book of letters by Eleanor Farjeon (letters between him and her) at a book sale a couple of weeks back, and have just started it. I'm now starting to read his poetry. A friend who was round the other day was having a cup of tea, and talk turned to literary matters, and he mentioned Edward Thomas, so I was able to tell him of the book I was reading. This friend lived not far from where the poet lived, so had an added interest. Funnily enough, I'd started reading this book just the night before. I like what I've read so far, so more researchwill be done.
I liked this poem "Thaw" for its spareness and its ability to convey so much in few words.