Edward Thomas: ‘The Child on the Cliffs’


I’ve been on the West Coast for a much needed, much enjoyed vacation. Here’s a photo I took at Bodega Head on the north coast of California. And below a scrap of poem from the Welsh poet Edward Thomas.

Mother, the root of this little yellow flower
Among the stones has the taste of quinine.
Things are strange to-day on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,
And the grasshopper works at his sewing-machine
So hard. Here’s one on my hand, mother, look;
I lie so still. There’s one on your book.

(From The Child on the Cliffs by Edward Thomas)

2 comments

  1. Welcome Back, Rose! I’ve missed you….but I’m so glad you were able to take time for some well-deserved “R & R.” Continued thanks for your wonderful work, on this blog and FB and, of course the mag!

    Like

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