The Poetry Corner

The Hawthorn Tree

By Siegfried Loraine Sassoon

Not much to me is yonder lane Where I go every day; But when there's been a shower of rain And hedge-birds whistle gay, I know my lad that's out in France With fearsome things to see Would give his eyes for just one glance At our white hawthorn tree. ***** Not much to me is yonder lane Where he so longs to tread; But when there's been a shower of rain I think I'll never weep again Until I've heard he's dead.