Aug 312011

I passed a knoll and passed it every day
Along the same soft deserted loam
Until a track as bare as bone
Followed along my way.

It was in its going I saw it first:
Narrow willows in a lovely copse
Where the wounded woodsman lops
The last to lay with the first.

I had not noted the knot of wood,
Or taken the view to do myself good--
Although the fresh-cut white of the willow-ends
Made some temporary amends.

[Versioned from Edward Thomas' 
 "First Known When Lost"]

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