One More Poem by Blunden
Winter: East Anglia
In a frosty sunset
So fiery red with cold
The footballers' onset
Rings out glad and bold;
Then boys from daily tether
With famous dogs at heel
In starlight meet together
And to farther hedges steal;
Where the rats are pattering
In and out the stacks
Owls with hatred chattering
Swoop at the terriers' backs.
And, frost forgot, the chase grows hot
Till a rat's a foolish prize,
But the cornered weasel stands his ground,
Shrieks at the dogs and boys set round,
Shrieks as he knows they stand all round,
And hard as winter dies.
I can see that I will have to get hold of a volume of Blunden’s poetry.