The Child on the Cliffs
Edward Thomas
1878 to 1917
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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Fishes and gulls ring no bells. There cannot be
A chapel or church between here and Devon,
Sweeter I never heard, mother, no, not in all Wales.
Somewhere under the sea or up in heaven.
But I have something to tell more strange. So leave
And the grasshopper works at his sewing-machine
"It's the bell, my son, out in the bay
I should like to be lying under that foam,
And certain that you would often come
On the buoy. It does sound sweet to-day."
Things are strange to-day on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,
Far out? Now and then the foam there curls
I should be happy if that could be.
So hard. Here's one on my hand, mother, look;
Your book to the grasshopper, mother dear,—
Mother, the root of this little yellow flower
Dead, but able to hear the sound of the bell,
And listen now. Can you hear what I hear
And stretches a white arm out like a girl's.
Among the stones has the taste of quinine.
And rest, listening happily.
With fishes or gulls ringing its bell,—hark!—
I lie so still. There's one on your book.
Like a green knight in a dazzling market-place,—