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ReadingWillow structured literacy program for Australian students
Poetry Library

— Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

…

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The Word

22 lines
Edward Thomas
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HERE are so many things I have forgot,That once were much to me, or that were not,All lost, as is a childless woman's childAnd its child's children, in the undefiledAbyss of what can never be again.I have forgot, too, names of the mighty menThat fought and lost or won in the old wars,Of kings and fiends and gods, and most of the stars.Some things I have forgot that I forget.But lesser things there are, remembered yet,Than all the others. One name that I have not--Though 'tis an empty thingless name--forgotNever can die because Spring after SpringSome thrushes learn to say it as they sing.There is always one at midday saying it clearAnd tart--the name, only the name I hear.While perhaps I am thinking of the elder scentThat is like food, or while I am contentWith the wild rose scent that is like memory,This name suddenly is cried out to meFrom somewhere in the bushes by a birdOver and over again, a pure thrush word.
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