But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell
His troubled voice: he did the business well.
The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining
And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood!
‘It’s time to go. O Christ, and what’s the good?
‘We’ll never take it, and it’s always raining.’
I wondered where he’d been; then heard him shout,
‘They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don’t go out…
I fell asleep … Next morning he was dead;
And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.
A bird was singing. But the craftsman’s thoughtIs a forgotten language, lost and dead.He sighed and stretch’d brown arms. His friend came inAnd stood beside him in the morning sun.The goldwork glitter’d…. ‘That’s the best I’ve done.‘And now I’ve got a necklace to begin.’This was at Gnossos, in the isle of Crete…A girl was selling…
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flowLike clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved to go,Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.But the past is just the same–and War’s a bloody game…Have you…
And baked the channels; birds had done with song.Thirst was a dream of fountains in the moon,Or willow-music blown across the waterLeisurely sliding on by weir and mill.Uneasy was the man who wandered, brooding,His face a little whiter than the dusk.A drone of sultry wings flicker’d in his head.The end of sunset burning thro’ the…
Of mastering love. I never prayed that youMight stand, unsoiled, angelic and inhuman,Pointing the way toward Sainthood like a sign-post.Oh yes, I know the way to heaven was easy.We found the little kingdom of our passionThat all can share who walk the road of lovers.In wild and secret happiness we stumbled;And gods and demons clamoured…
One of them said: ‘My eldest ladWrites cheery letters from Bagdad.But Arthur’s getting all the funAt Arras with his nine-inch gun.’‘Yes,’ wheezed the other, ‘that’s the luck!My boy’s quite broken-hearted, stuckIn England training all this year.Still, if there’s truth in what we hear,The Huns intend to ask for moreBefore they bolt across the Rhine.’I watched…
Everyone yawning. Only the clocks are alert.Out in the night there’s autumn-smelling gloomCrowded with whispering trees; across the parkA hollow cry of hounds like lonely bells:And I know that the clouds are moving across the moon;The low, red, rising moon. Now herons callAnd wrangle by their pool; and hooting owlsSail from the wood above pale…
