Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THOUGHTS NEAR ASHAMPSTEAD AERODROME, HARVEST-TIME, by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THOUGHTS NEAR ASHAMPSTEAD AERODROME, HARVEST-TIME, by                    
First Line: Not for the last time be our england filled
Last Line: "god bless friend hodge,"" they say; ""his gear be sped!"
Subject(s): Airports; England - Social Life & Customs; Farm Life; Harvest; Old Age; Agriculture; Farmers


Not for the last time be our England filled
With golden grain crops, every acre tilled;
Not for the last time if we are wise; yet I
Draw no good omen from the noisy sky.
I know the wherefore of the aircraft's roaring.
But it brings little for our homely storing;
Nor do content and comfort come more near
When in one day we vault the hemisphere.
That aerodrome—which I remember well
As a snug farm and richly arable—
That aerodrome's a symptom, whence the sage
Can read the science sickness of the age.
"Nay, a new age, and 'other palms are won.'"
Old I forgot that, sitting in the sun.
But this I know: when cities cry for bread,
"God bless friend Hodge," they say; "his gear be sped!"





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