Would You Return
Edmund Blunden
Poppies never brighter shone, and never sweeter smelled the hay,
The town with its steeples looked made of silver all the way,
Down in the streamy valley like a treasure that town lay.
Who was not with me there? who in that crystal air
Hastened not beside me on the springy grass did not stare
Miles ahead where those bright tops of mansioned hope were gems aflare?
Come then, know again this same knoll we paused upon,
These poplars with their flashing wind, this singing rill, this silent stone-
The sun pale peering at the shag-haired storm that swooped on Avalon.
