Explore "Home" by Edward Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Fair was the morning, fair our tempers, and We had seen nothing fairer than that land, Though strange, and the untrodden snow that made Wild of the tame, casting out all that was Not wild and rustic and old; and we were glad.
Fair, too, was afternoon, and first to pass Were we that league of snow, next the north wind There was nothing to return for, except need, And yet we sang nor ever stopped for speed, As we did often with the start behind.