I Built Myself a House of Glass

I BUILT myself a house of glass:
It took me years to make it:
And I was proud. But now, alas,
Would God someone would break it.
But it looks too magnificent.
No neighbour casts a stone
From where he dwells, in tenement
Or palace of glass, alone.

About Edward Thomas

Anglo-Welsh poet and essayist killed in WWI. His nature poetry captures the English landscape with quiet, precise observation.

More poems by Edward Thomas

View all Edward Thomas poems →

More Solitude & Reflection poems

View all Solitude & Reflection poems →