Adlestrop
Автор книги Edward Thomas
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Yes, I remember Adlestrop.
The name, because one afternoon.
Of heat the express-train drew up there.
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed.
Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came.
On the bare platform.
What I saw.
Was Adlestrop only the name.
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair.
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang.
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds.
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
