Gone, gone again, <br />May, June, July, <br />And August gone, <br />Again gone by, <br /> <br />Not memorable <br />Save that I saw them go, <br />As past the empty quays <br />The rivers flow. <br /> <br />And now again, <br />In the harvest rain, <br />The Blenheim oranges <br />Fall grubby from the trees <br /> <br />As when I was young <br />And when the lost one was here <br />And when the war began <br />To turn young men to dung. <br /> <br />Look at the old house, <br />Outmoded, dignified, <br />Dark and untenanted, <br />With grass growing instead <br /> <br />Of the footsteps of life, <br />The friendliness, the strife; <br />In its beds have lain <br />Youth. love, age, and pain: <br /> <br />I am something like that; <br />Only I am not dead, <br />Still breathing and interested <br />In the house that is not dark:- <br /> <br />I am something like that: <br />Not one pane to reflect the sun, <br />For the schoolboys to throw at - <br />They have broken every one.<br /><br />Edward Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gone-gone-again/
