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Poem for the Day

Posted: 6 August 2014

"Fix bayonets!" thundered down the line.
What use against the dreadful fire?
The sergeants yelled, the whistles blew,
The young men wet themselves with fear,
As over the top the trenches spewed
Like vomit, men into the mire.

Some fell soon as the charge began,...
The anxious dead that none could save.
Some blindly danced the waltz insane,
Some dying called their mother’s name.
No time to take him home again,
Now use the shell-hole for his grave.

Fix Bayonets Thundered Down the Line
Bill Adair

Poem for the Day

Posted: 5 August 2014

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow;
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,...
When Sorrow walked with me.

I Walked A Mile With Pleasure
Robert Browning

Poem for the Day

Posted: 4 August 2014

This is thought to be one of the first poems Wilfred Owen wrote about war. Narrated by Owen himself, he deals with the beginnings of war and anticipates the horrors yet to come.

War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul tornado, centred at Berlin,
Is over all the width of Europe whirled,
Rending the sails of progress. Rent or furled
Are all Ar...t's ensigns. Verse wails. Now begin
Famines of thought and feeling. Love's wine's thin.
The grain of human Autumn rots, down-hurled.

For after Spring had bloomed in early Greece,
And Summer blazed her glory out with Rome,
An Autumn softly fell, a harvest home,
A slow grand age, and rich with all increase.
But now, for us, wild Winter, and the need
Of sowings for new Spring, and blood for seed.

1914
Wilfred Owen

Poem for the Day

Posted: 3 August 2014

Wha is my shepherd weel I ken,
The Lord Himsel' is he;
He leeds me whaur the girse is green
An' burnies quaet that be.

Aft times I fain astray wad gang
An' wann'r far awa';
He fin's me oot, He pits me richt,...
An brings me hame an' a'.

Tho' I pass through the gruesome cleugh,
Fin' I ken He is near;
His muckle crook will me defen',
Sae I ha'e nocht to fear.

Ilk comfort whilk a sheep could need,
His thochtfu' care provides;
Tho' wolves an' dogs may prowl aboot,
In safety me he hides.

His guidness an' His mercy baith
Nae doot will bide wi' me
While faulded on the fields o' time,
Or o' eternity.

The 23rd Psalm in Scots
Anonymous

Poem for the Day

Posted: 2 August 2014

The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
‘T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t’ other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I was n’t there; I simply state...
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went “Bow-wow-wow!”
And the calico cat replied “Mee-ow!”
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I’m only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)

The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, “Oh, dear! what shall we do!”
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw—
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don’t fancy I exaggerate—
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)

Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)

The Duel
Eugene Field

176-180 of 841 blog entries

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