A RARELY-CONTENTED Edward Thomas sketches this summer tableau of heat and stillness, sky and water.

The poem dates to 1915, the year in which he enlisted. He was killed at Arras in 1917.

JULY

Naught moves but clouds, and in the glassy lake

Their doubles and the shadow of my boat.

The boat itself stirs only when I break

This drowse of heat and solitude afloat

To prove if what I see be bird or mote.

Or learn if yet the shore woods be awake.

Long hours since dawn grew, - spread, - and passed on high

And deep below, - I have watched the cool reeds hung

Over images more cool in imaged sky:

Nothing there was worth thinking of so long;

All that the ring-doves say, far leaves among,

Brims my mind with content thus still to lie.