Page:Poems (Edward Thomas, 1917).djvu/15

 THE TRUMPET

THE SIGN-POST

dim sea glints chill. The white sun is shy,

And the skeleton weeds and the never-dry,

Rough, long grasses keep white with frost

At the hilltop by the finger-post;

The smoke of the traveller's-joy is puffed

Over hawthorn berry and hazel tuft. 9