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Edward Thomas - Gone, Gone Again
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Gone, gone again, 
May, June, July, 
And August gone, 
Again gone by, 

Not memorable 
Save that I saw them go, 
As past the empty quays 
The rivers flow. 

And now again, 
In the harvest rain, 
The Blenheim oranges 
Fall grubby from the trees 

As when I was young 
And when the lost one was here 
And when the war began 
To turn young men to dung. 

Look at the old house, 
Outmoded, dignified, 
Dark and untenanted, 
With grass growing instead 

Of the footsteps of life, 
The friendliness, the strife; 
In its beds have lain 
Youth. love, age, and pain: 

I am something like that; 
Only I am not dead, 
Still breathing and interested 
In the house that is not dark:- 

I am something like that: 
Not one pane to reflect the sun, 
For the schoolboys to throw at - 
They have broken every one.
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