by Edward Thomas (1878 - 1917)
Words
Language: English
Out of us all That make rhymes, Will you choose Sometimes -- As the winds use A crack in a wall Or a drain, Their joy or their pain To whistle through -- Choose me, You English words? I know you: You are light as dreams, Tough as oak, Precious as gold, As poppies and corn, Or an old cloak: Sweet as our birds To the ear, As the burnet rose In the heat Of Midsummer: Strange as the races Of dead and unborn: Strange and sweet Equally, And familiar, To the eye, As the dearest faces That a man knows, And as lost homes are: But though older far Than oldest yew, -- As our hills are, old. -- Worn new Again and again: Young as our streams After rain: And as dear As the earth which you prove That we love. Make me content With some sweetness From Wales Whose nightingales Have no wings,-- From Wiltshire and Kent And Herefordshire, And the villages there,-- From the names, and the things No less. Let me sometimes dance With you, Or climb Or stand perchance In ecstasy, Fixed and free In a rhyme, As poets do.
Authorship:
- by Edward Thomas (1878 - 1917), "Words" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ivor (Bertie) Gurney (1890 - 1937), "Words", 1925 [ voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Anthony Payne (b. 1936), "Words" [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this page: Barbara Miller
This text was added to the website: 2010-06-10
Line count: 59
Word count: 192