Charles Dalmon - Edward Thomas

No slowworm dropped its tail for him;
No squirrel clicked its heels in scorn;
Because he shared in every whim
Of every little creature born.

For his amusement, bluetits did
Their funny acrobatic tricks;
And efts and water-beetles slid
On floating leaves, or swimming sticks.

The shadow of a passing bird
Would touch and thrill him with delight;
And he could hear each silent word
Old empty houses speak at night.

The language of a quiet place
In lonely woods became his own;
And Nature met him face to face,
And mated with him there alone.

He knew the voice of every tree;
He caught the song of summer heat;
While growing grass for him could be
Sweet lyrics singing at his feet.

And bank voles listened when he said:
'My pretty ones, don't venture far;
Eyases and owlets must be fed
Continually so there you are!'

Pied wagtails had a fearless eye
When he was close beside their nest:
And I have seen a linnet fly
And cling and flutter at his breast.

The Land of Ghosts beyond the sun
Must be a pleasant land to find,
If it is good enough for one
So understanding, and so kind.

Charles Dalmon

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