Common Things
I
Ivor Gurney
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The dearness of common things -
Beech wood, tea, plate-shelves,
And the whole family of crockery -
Wood-axes, blades, helves.
Ivory milk, earth's coffee,
The white face of books
And the touch, feel, smell of paper -
Latin's lovely looks.
Earth fine to handle;
The touch of clouds,
When the imagining arm leaps out to caress
Grey worsted or wool clouds.
Wool, rope, cloth, old pipes
Gone, warped in service;
And the one herb of tobacco,
The herb of grace, the censer weed,
Of whorled, blue, finger-traced curves.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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