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Poem for the Day

Posted: 6 November 2013

If I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath,
I’d live with scarlet Majors at the Base,
And speed glum heroes up the line to death.
You’d see me with my puffy petulant face,
Guzzling and gulping in the best hotel,
Reading the Roll of Honour. “Poor young chap,”
I’d say — “I used to know his father well;
Yes, we’ve lost heavily in this last scrap.”
And when the war is done and youth stone dead,
I’d toddle safely home and die — in bed.

Base Details
Siegfried Sassoon

 

 

Poem for the Day

Posted: 5 November 2013

Down some cold field in a world unspoken
the young men are walking together, slim and tall,
and though they laugh to one another, silence is not broken;
there is no sound however clear they call

They are speaking together of what they loved in vain here,
but the air is too thin to carry the thing they say.
They were young and golden, but they came on pain here,
and their youth is age now, their gold is grey.

Yet their hearts are not changed, and they cry to one another,
'What have they done with the lives we laid aside?
Are they young with our youth, gold with our gold, my brother?
Do they smile in the face of death, because we died?’

Down some cold field in a world uncharted
the young seek each other with questioning eyes.
They question each other, the young, the golden-hearted,
of the world that they were robbed of in their quiet paradise.”

Requiem: The Soldier
Humbert Wolfe

Poem for the Day

Posted: 4 November 2013

There they go marching all in step so gay!
Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns.
Blithely they go as to a wedding day,
The mothers' sons.

The drab street stares to see them row on row
On the high tram-tops, singing like the lark.
Too careless-gay for courage, singing they go
Into the dark.

With tin whistles, mouth-organs, any noise,
They pipe the way to glory and the grave;
Foolish and young, the gay and golden boys
Love cannot save.

High heart! High courage! The poor girls they kissed
Run with them : they shall kiss no more, alas!
Out of the mist they stepped-into the mist
Singing they pass.

Joining The Colours
Katharine Tynan

Haiku for a Sunday Morning #8

Posted: 3 November 2013

On your way to church,
See God dressed in beggar’s clothes.
Stop and say hello.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day

Posted: 3 November 2013

When you are old and tired and grey,
And wear your overcoat on sunny days,
When your brave tales have all been told,
I'll ask for them when you are old.

When you are old and full of sleep
And death no longer makes you weep.
When your body aches with cold
I'll warm your heart when you are old.

And you'll still be the same to me,
A comfort and a mystery,
And I will be old too, you see,
I'll need someone to comfort me.

When you are old and pale and gone
And a gentle hand is all you want.
I will give you mine to hold
And I'll be here when you are old.

When You Are Old
Gretchen Peters

501-505 of 841 blog entries

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