Explore "As the Team's Head-Brass" by Edward Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
As the team's head-brass flashed out on the turn The lovers disappeared into the wood.
I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm That strewed an angle of the fallow, and Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square Of charlock. Every time the horses turned Instead of treading me down, the ploughman leaned Upon the handles to say or ask a word, About the weather, next about the war.