Digging [WHAT matter makes my spade for tears or mirth]

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Title:     Digging [WHAT matter makes my spade for tears or mirth]
Author: Edward Thomas [More Titles by Thomas]

WHAT matter makes my spade for tears or mirth,
Letting down two clay pipes into the earth?
The one I smoked, the other a soldier
Of Blenheim, Ramillies, and Malplaquet
Perhaps. The dead man's immortality
Lies represented lightly with my own,
A yard or two nearer the living air
Than bones of ancients who, amazed to see
Almighty God erect the mastodon,
Once laughed, or wept, in this same light of day.

[The end]
Edward Thomas's poem: Digging

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