| Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920. |
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| Edward Thomas. 1878–1917 |
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| 105. Fifty Faggots |
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| THERE they stand, on their ends, the fifty faggots | |
| That once were underwood of hazel and ash | |
| In Jenny Pinks's Copse. Now, by the hedge | |
| Close packed, they make a thicket fancy alone | |
| Can creep through with the mouse and wren. Next Spring | 5 |
| A blackbird or a robin will nest there, | |
| Accustomed to them, thinking they will remain | |
| Whatever is for ever to a bird. | |
| This Spring it is too late; the swift has come, | |
| 'Twas a hot day for carrying them up: | 10 |
| Better they will never warm me, though they must | |
| Light several Winters' fires. Before they are done | |
| The war will have ended, many other things | |
| Have ended, maybe, that I can no more | |
| Foresee or more control than robin and wren. | 15 |
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