And blundered in. With puzzled, patient face
A sergeant watched him; it was no good trying
To stop it; for he howled and beat his chest.
And, all because his brother had gone west,
Raved at the bleeding war; his rampant grief
Moaned, shouted, sobbed, and choked, while he was kneeling
Half-naked on the floor. In my belief
Such men have lost all patriotic feeling.
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Music of whispering trees
Where shaken water gleams;And evening radiance fallingWith reedy bird-notes calling.O bear me safe through dark, you low-voiced streams.I have no need to prayThat fear may pass away;I scorn the growl and rumble of the fightThat summons me from coolSilence of marsh and poolAnd yellow lilies is landed in lightO river of stars and shadows, lead…
O beauty doomed and perfect for an hour,
You show me dauntless Youth that went to fightFour long years past, discovering pride and power.You die but in our dreams, who watch you fallKnowing that to-morrow you will dance again.But not to ebbing music were they slainWho sleep in ruined graves, beyond recall;Who, following phantom-glory, friend and foe,Into the darkness that was War must…
Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep;
When peaceful folk in beds lay snug asleep;There, with much work to do before the light,We lugged our clay-sucked boots as best we mightAlong the trench; sometimes a bullet sang,And droning shells burst with a hollow bang;We were soaked, chilled and wretched, every one;Darkness; the distant wink of a huge gun.I turned in the black…
Ye hooded witches, baleful shapes that moan,
For now the moon through heaven sails alone,Shedding her peaceful rays from hill to hill.The faun from out his dim and secret placeDraws nigh the darkling pool and from his dreamHalf-wakens, seeing there his sylvan faceReflected, and the wistful eyes that gleam.To his cold lips he sets the pipe to blowSome drowsy note that charms…
She triumphs, in the vivid green
And in each soldier’s heart serene;When death stood near them they have seenThe radiant forests where her feetMove on a breeze of silver sheen.And they are fortunate, who fightFor gleaming landscapes swept and shaftedAnd crowned by cloud pavilions white;Hearing such harmonies as mightOnly from Heaven be downward wafted—Voices of victory and delight.
If you could crowd them into forty lines!
All that you want is waiting in your head,For long-ago you’ve learnt it off by heart.. . . .Begin: your mind’s the room where you have slept,(Don’t pause for rhymes), till twilight woke you early.The window stands wide-open, as it stoodWhen tree-tops loomed enchanted for a childHearing the dawn’s first thrushes through the woodWarbling (you…