Blenheim Oranges

November 11 2012

“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.”

___

Edward Thomas, 1916. He was killed at Arras on Easter Monday, 1917.

Wikimedia Commons and Wageningen UR Digital Library Special Collection

One Response to “Blenheim Oranges”

  1. davidderrick Says:

    Apples and oranges.


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