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Alan Seeger Alan Sullivan Alfred Noyes arms battle beat Belgian Binyon blind blood blow Boom breast breath brothers Cammaerts Christmas cried dark dawn dead death dream drum dumb dying earth Emile Cammaerts England eyes Father feet field fight fire flag flame Flanders flowers France Gilbert Frankau glorious glory gray guns hands hear heart heaven hill King laughed Laughter Laurence Binyon lifted light look Lord Man's Land moan moon Mother neath night o'er peace Percy Mackaye pipes Poems poetry pray prayer rain rendezvous with Death Ring road roar rose Rupert Brooke Says the rhythm seas shadows shining silent sing Sir Rabindranath Tagore skies sleep smoke soldier song soul Spring stars storm stricken Strong sweet sword tears thee There's things Thomas Hardy thou thunder to-night trenches trumpet victory vision voice W. M. Letts Wilfrid Wilson Gibson wind wings
Pagina 13 - If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam. A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.
Pagina 11 - Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth^ and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping, Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary, Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move, And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary, And all the little emptiness of love...
Pagina 11 - BLOW out, you bugles, over the rich Dead ! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene, That men call age; and those, who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality.
Pagina 80 - Only a man harrowing clods In a slow silent walk, With an old horse that stumbles and nods Half asleep as they stalk. Only thin smoke without flame From the heaps of couch-grass; Yet this will go onward the same Though dynasties pass. Yonder a maid and her wight Come whispering by; War's annals will cloud into night Ere their story die.
Pagina 81 - ... Ere the barn-cocks say Night is growing gray, To hazards whence no tears can win us ; What of the faith and fire within us Men who march away...
Pagina 68 - Great rest, and fulness after dearth. All the bright company of Heaven Hold him in their high comradeship, The Dog-Star and the Sisters Seven, Orion's Belt and sworded hip. The woodland trees that stand together, They stand to him each one a friend; They gently speak in the windy weather; They guide to valley and ridge's end. The kestrel hovering by day, And the little owls that call by night, Bid him be swift and keen as they, As keen of ear, as swift of sight. The blackbird sings to him, "Brother,...
Pagina 140 - I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air — I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
Pagina 69 - And only joy of battle takes Him by the throat, and makes him blind. Through joy and blindness he shall know Not caring much to know, that still Nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so That it be not the Destined Will.
Pagina 12 - These hearts were woven of human joys and cares, Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth. The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs, And sunset, and the colours of the earth. These had seen movement, and heard music; known Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended; Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone; Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended. There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter And lit by the rich skies, all...
Pagina 12 - But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene That men call age; and those who would have been Their sons they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth, Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.