Edward Thomas (
1878–
1917)
Out of the wood of
thoughts that grows by
night
To be cut down by the sharp
axe of
light,—
Out of the night, two
cocks together
crow,
Cleaving the
darkness with a silver blow:
And bright before my eyes twin
trumpeters stand,
Heralds of splendour, one at either hand,
Each facing each as in a
coat of arms:—
The
milkers lace their boots up at the farms.