The Old Huntsman: And Other PoemsDutton, 1918 - 109 psl. |
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13 psl.
... pass . We are the happy legion , for we know Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass . There was an hour when we were loth to part From life we longed to share no less than others . Now , having claimed this heritage of heart ...
... pass . We are the happy legion , for we know Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass . There was an hour when we were loth to part From life we longed to share no less than others . Now , having claimed this heritage of heart ...
17 psl.
... passes and cries unseen . I am not sad ; only I long for lustre , - Tired of the greys and browns and the leafless ash . I would have hours that move like a glitter of dancers Far from the angry guns that boom and flash . Return ...
... passes and cries unseen . I am not sad ; only I long for lustre , - Tired of the greys and browns and the leafless ash . I would have hours that move like a glitter of dancers Far from the angry guns that boom and flash . Return ...
26 psl.
... passing ; soon the year would mend . He couldn't sleep that night . Stiff in the dark He groaned and thought of Sundays at the farm , When he'd go out as cheerful as a lark In his best suit to wander arm - in - arm With brown - eyed ...
... passing ; soon the year would mend . He couldn't sleep that night . Stiff in the dark He groaned and thought of Sundays at the farm , When he'd go out as cheerful as a lark In his best suit to wander arm - in - arm With brown - eyed ...
34 psl.
... . But when he'd told his tale , an old man said That he'd seen soldiers pass along that hill ; " Poor , silent things , they were the English dead " Who came to fight in France and got their fill . " They " THE Bishop tells us : " When ...
... . But when he'd told his tale , an old man said That he'd seen soldiers pass along that hill ; " Poor , silent things , they were the English dead " Who came to fight in France and got their fill . " They " THE Bishop tells us : " When ...
53 psl.
... pass And halt , but never see them ; yet they're here- A patient crowd along the sodden grass , Silent , worn out with waiting , sick with fear . The road goes crawling up a long hillside , All ruts and stones and sludge , and the ...
... pass And halt , but never see them ; yet they're here- A patient crowd along the sodden grass , Silent , worn out with waiting , sick with fear . The road goes crawling up a long hillside , All ruts and stones and sludge , and the ...
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arms birds blind blossom blue blundered boughs brain breath breeze cloud Conscripts crowned dark David Cleek dawn dead death dream Dryads evermore eyes face fade feet fight flare flowers France gaze ghost Gibbet gleaming glimmering glinting gloom glory glug golden green grey groping Hallelujah he'd head hear heard heart Heaven Hell hill hounds hueless lark legs light listen lonely looked Lord madrigal meadows misty moon morning Morning Glory Morning-Land never night Nimrod Noah Old Huntsman pennons pipe Poplar rain Rapture remembered road round Saracen's Head scent shines shout silence silver sing sleep slow sludge soldiers song South Wind stand stared stars stir stood stooped storm stream sweet there's things thought To-day trees trench triumph Twas UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN voice watch weald What's whispering whistling wings wink wondered wood wound young
Populiarios ištraukos
35 psl. - We're none of us the same!' the boys reply. 'For George lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind; Poor Jim's shot through the lungs and like to die; And Bert's gone syphilitic: you'll not find A chap who's served that hasn't found some change.
95 psl. - ... to darkness; and forgot The opiate throb and ache that was his wound. Water - calm, sliding green above the weir; Water - a sky-lit alley for his boat, Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers And shaken hues of summer: drifting down, He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept. Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward, Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve. Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud; Queer blots of colour,...
53 psl. - Stare up at caverned darkness winking white. You in the bomb-scorched kilt, poor sprawling Jock, You tottered here and fell, and stumbled on, Half dazed for want of sleep. No dream could mock Your reeling brain with comforts lost and gone. You did not feel her arms about your knees, Her blind caress, her lips upon your head: Too tired for thoughts of home and love and ease, The road would serve you well enough for bed.
48 psl. - Jack," cold-footed, useless swine, Had panicked down the trench that night the mine Went up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried To get sent home; and how, at last, he died. Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care Except that lonely woman with white hair.
35 psl. - When the boys come back They will not be the same ; for they'll have fought In a just cause : they lead the last attack On Anti-Christ ; their comrades' blood has bought New right to breed an honourable race. They have challenged Death and dared him face to face.
23 psl. - No thorny crown, only a woollen cap He wore an English soldier, white and strong, Who loved his time like any simple chap, Good days of work and sport and homely song; Now he has learned that nights are very long, And dawn a watching of the windowed sky. But to the end, unjudging, he'll endure Horror and pain, not uncontent to die That Lancaster on Lune may stand secure. He faced me, reeling in his weariness, Shouldering his load of planks, so hard to bear.
101 psl. - Ah! but there was no need to call his name. He was beside me now, as swift as light. I knew him crushed to earth in scentless flowers, And lifted in the rapture of dark pines. "For now," he said, "my spirit has more eyes "Than heaven has stars; and they are lit by love. My body is the magic of the world, And dawn and sunset flame with my spilt blood.
95 psl. - But someone was beside him; soon he lay Shuddering because that evil thing had passed. And Death, who'd stepped toward him, paused and stared. Light many lamps and gather round his bed. Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live. Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet. He's young; he hated war; how should he die When cruel old campaigners win safe through? But Death replied: 'I choose him.
20 psl. - A MYSTIC AS SOLDIER I lived my days apart, Dreaming fair songs for God, By the glory in my heart Covered and crowned and shod. Now God is in the strife, And I must seek Him there, Where death outnumbers life, And fury smites the air. I walk the secret way With anger in my brain. O music through my clay, When will you sound again?
56 psl. - Along the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, Offering themselves to morn's long, slanting arrows. The train's due; porters trundle laden barrows. The train steams in, volleying resplendent clouds Of sun-blown vapour.