Have these for yours,
While sea abides, and land,
And earth’s foundations stand,
and heaven endures.
When earth’s foundations flee,
nor sky nor land nor sea
At all is found
Content you, let them burn:
It is not your concern;
Sleep on, sleep sound.
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The Sun at noon to higher air,
That late before his chariot swam,Rides on the gold wool of the Ram.So braver notes the storm-cock singsTo start the rusted wheel of things,And brutes in field and brutes in penLeap that the world goes round again.The boys are up the woods with dayTo fetch the daffodils away,And home at noonday from the hillsThey bring…
The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,
The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.There’s chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart,And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave,And many the handsome of face and the…
The street sounds to the soldiers’ tread,
A single redcoat turns his head,He turns and looks at me.My man, from sky to sky’s so far,We never crossed before;Such leagues apart the world’s ends are,We’re like to meet no more;What thoughts at heart have you and IWe cannot stop to tell;But dead or living, drunk or dry,Soldier, I wish you well.
If by chance your eye offend you,
‘Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you,And many a balsam grows on ground.And if your hand or foot offend you,Cut it off, lad, and be whole;But play the man, stand up and end you,When your sickness is your soul.
Wake: the silver dusk returning
And the ship of sunrise burningStrands upon the eastern rims.Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,Trampled to the floor it spanned,And the tent of night in tattersStraws the sky-pavilioned land.Up, lad, up, ’tis late for lying:Hear the drums of morning play;Hark, the empty highways crying‘Who’ll beyond the hills away?’Towns and countries woo together,Forelands beacon, belfries call;Never lad…
Farewell to a name and a number
To darkness and silence and slumberIn blood and pain.So ceases and turns to the thingHe was born to beA soldier cheap to the KingAnd dear to me;So smothers in blood the burningAnd flaming flightOf valour and truth returningTo dust and night.