The New DeathHoughton Mifflin, 1918 - 173 pagine |
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accept agnosticism Alan Seeger army attitude battle battle-field beauty believe bereaved better blind body boys Christian comrades conviction coöperation courage dead boys deny destruction devo dissolution divine Donald Hankey duty earth earthly ence endeavor energy eternal existence experience expression face faith feel fighting force forget frankly French artist future German Gilbert Murray grave grief Harold Chapin's heart Henri Barbusse horror human humble ideal illumination immortality impulse individual influence inspiration instant instinct intensity intuitions killed ligion loss loved materialism medieval ment mortality mother motive mysterious mysticism nation never occult one's passed patriotism peace perceive perception perhaps poems popular practice present promise religion revealed reverence Rupert Brooke sacrifice sality scientific method seen Sir Oliver Lodge soldier soul spiritual splendid strange surely survival testimony thing thought tion to-day Tom Kettle trenches triumph song ture universal utter vidual vision words writes young dead youth
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Pagina 81 - Earth that never doubts nor fears, Earth that knows of death, not tears, Earth that bore with joyful ease Hemlock for Socrates, Earth that blossomed and was glad 'Neath the cross that Christ had, Shall rejoice and blossom too When the bullet reaches you. Wherefore, men marching On the road to death, sing! Pour your gladness on earth's head, So be merry, so be dead.
Pagina 88 - And when the burning moment breaks, And all things else are out of mind, 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 30 - Hungry for spring, I bent my head, The perfume fanned my face, And all my soul was dancing In that lovely little place, Dancing with a measured step from wrecked and shattered towns Away upon the Downs. I saw green banks of daffodil, Slim poplars in the breeze, Great tan-brown hares in gusty March A-courting on the leas; And meadows with their glittering streams, and silver scurrying dace, Home — what a perfect place...
Pagina 78 - Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat: Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, A merciful putting away of what has been. And this we know: Death is not Life effete, Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen So marvellous things know well the end not yet. Victor and vanquished are a-one in death: Coward and brave: friend, foe. Ghosts do not say, "Come, what was your record when you drew breath?
Pagina 32 - Beauty of Earth, when in thy harmonies The cannon's note has ceased to be a part, I shall return once more and bring to these The worship of an undivided heart. Of those sweet potentialities that wait For my heart's deep desire to fecundate I shall resume the search, if Fortune grants ; And the great cities of the world shall yet Be golden frames for me in which to set New masterpieces of more rare romance. But "Fortune" did not grant; he has "returned once more" to Earth, but in a very literal sense...
Pagina 64 - I'll unpack that scented store Of song and flower and sky and face, And count, and touch, and turn them o'er, Musing upon them ; as a mother, who Has watched her children all the rich day through, Sits, quiet-handed, in the fading light, When children sleep, ere night.
Pagina 68 - ... horsemen, charging under phantom skies, Went thundering past beneath the oriflamme. And now those waiting dreams are satisfied; From twilight to the halls of dawn he went; His lance is broken; but he lies content With that high hour, in which he lived and died. And falling thus he wants no recompense, Who found his battle in the last resort; Nor needs he any hearse to bear him hence, Who goes to join the men of Agincourt.
Pagina 29 - IN wiser days, my darling rosebud, blown To beauty proud as was your mother's prime, In that desired, delayed, incredible time, You'll ask why I abandoned you, my own, And the dear heart that was your baby throne, To dice with death. And, oh ! they'll give you rhyme And reason : some will call the thing sublime, And some decry it in a knowing tone. So here, while the mad guns curse overhead, And tired men sigh, with mud for...
Pagina 29 - 11 ask why I abandoned you, my own, And the dear heart that was your baby throne, To dice with death. And, oh! they'll give you rhyme And reason: some will call the thing sublime, And some decry it in a knowing tone. So here, while the mad guns curse overhead, And tired men sigh, with mud for couch and floor, Know that we fools, now with the foolish dead, Died not for flag, nor King, nor Emperor, But for a dream, born in a herdsman's shed, And for the secret Scripture of the poor.
Pagina 57 - I, that on my familiar hill Saw with uncomprehending eyes A hundred of Thy sunsets spill Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice^ Ere the sun swings. his noonday sword Must say good-bye to all of this; — By all delights that I shall miss, Help me to die, O Lord.