by Edward Thomas
Today I think
Only with scents- scents dead leaves yield,
And bracken, and wild carrot’s seed,
And the square mustard field;
Odours that rise
When the spade wounds the roots of tree,
Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,
Rhubarb or celery;
The smoke’s smell, too,
Flowing from where a bonfire burns
The dead, the waste, the dangerous,
And all to sweetness turns.
It is enough
To smell, to crumble the dark earth,
While the robin sings over again
Sad songs of Autumn mirth.
Classroom tip: This poem is particularly suited for Year 3 (poems based on the senses). Ask your pupils to do an individual piece of writing based on what they can smell. Perhaps you could go for a walk outside the classroom, around the playground or field, along the corridors, and take notebooks to record all the smells.