A bowl of daffodilsA league and a league from the trenches—from the traversed maze of thelinesA song of hate is a song of HellA sudden swirl of song in the bright skyA wind in the world! The dark departsA wingèd death has smitten dumb thy bellsAll that a man might ask thou hast given me, EnglandAll the hills and vales alongAlone amid the battle-din untouchedAmbassador of Christ you goAround no fire the soldiers sleep to-nightAs I lay in the trenchesAs when the shadow of the sun's eclipseAt last there'll dawn the last of the long yearAwake, ye nations, slumbering supine
Because for once the sword broke in her handBefore I knew, the Dawn was on the roadBeneath fair Magdalen's storied towersBlow out, you bugles, over the rich DeadBroken, bewildered by the long retreatBrothers in blood! They who this wrong beganBurned from the ore's rejected drossBy all the deeds to Thy dear glory doneBy all the glories of the dayBy day, by night, along the lines their dull boom rings
Champion of human honour, let us laveCome, Death, I'd have a word with theeCourage came to you with your boyhood's grace
Dark, dark lay the drifters, against the red westDawn off the Foreland—the young flood makingDear son of mine, the baby days are overDreary lay the long road, dreary lay the town
Endless lanes sunken in the clayEngland, in this great fight to which you goEngland! where the sacred flame
Facing the guns, he jokes as wellFar fall the day when England's realm shall seeFor all we have and areFranceline rose in the dawning grayFrom morn to midnight, all day throughFurther and further we leave the scene
Give us a name to fill the mindGreat names of thy great captains gone beforeGreen gardens in LaventieGuns of Verdun point to Metz
He said: Thou petty people, let me passHearken, the feet of the Destroyer treadHere is his little cambric frockHere lies a clerk who half his life had spentHere, where we stood together, we three men
I cannot quite remember…. There were fiveI feel the spring far off, far offI have a rendezvous with DeathI heard the rumbling guns, I saw the smokeI know a beach roadI never knew you save as all men knowI pray for peace; yet peace is but a prayerI saw her first abreast the Boston LightI saw the spires of OxfordI see across the chasm of flying yearsI was out early to-day, spying aboutI went upon a journeyI will die cheering, if I needs must dieIf I should die, think only this of meIn a vision of the night I saw themIn lonely watches night by nightIn the face of death, they say, he joked—he had no fearIn the glad revels, in the happy fêtesIt is portentous, and a thing of stateIt was silent in the street
Land of the desolate, Mother of tearsLand of the Martyrs—of the martyred deadLed by Wilhelm, as you tellLest the young soldiers be strange in heavenLow and brown barns, thatched and repatched and tattered
Men of my blood, you English men!Men of the Twenty-firstMoon, slow rising, over the trembling sea-rimMother and child! Though the dividing seaMy leg? It's off at the kneeMy name is Darino, the poet. You have heard?Oui, Comédie Française
Nay, nay, sweet England, do not grieveNear where the royal victims fellNo Man's Land is an eerie sightNo more old England will they seeNot long did we lie on the torn, red field of painNot since Wren's Dome has whispered with man's prayerNot with her ruined silver spiresNow is the midnight of the nations: darkNow lamp-lit gardens in the blue dusk shineNow slowly sinks the day-long labouring sunNow spake the Emperor to all his shining battle forces
O gracious ones, we bless your nameO living pictures of the deadO race that Caesar knewOf all my dreams by night and dayOften I think of you, Jimmy DoaneOh, down by the Millwall Basin as I went the other dayOh, red is the English roseOh! yon hills are filled with sunlight, and the green leaves paled togoldOur little hour,—how swift it fliesOut where the line of battle cleavesOver the twilight field
Qui vive?Who passes by up there? Quiet thou didst stand at thine appointed place
Robbed mother of the stricken Motherland
Saints have adored the lofty soul of youSee you that stretch of shell-torn mud spotted with pools of mireShadow by shadow, stripped for fightShe came not into the Presence as a martyred saint might comeShe was binding the wounds of her enemies when they cameShyly expectant, gazing up at HerSometimes I fly at dawn above the sea
The battery grides and jinglesThe falling rain is music overheadThe first to climb the parapetThe horror-haunted Belgian plains riven by shot and shellThe naked earth is warm with SpringThe road that runs up to MessinesThe starshells float above, the bayonets glistenThere are five men in the moonlightThere is a hill in EnglandThere is wild water from the northThey had hot scent across the spumy seaThey sent him back to her. The letter cameThis is my faith, and my mind's heritageThis is the ballad of LangemarckThis was the gleam then that lured from farThose who have stood for thy cause when the dark was around theeThou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan BayThou, whose deep ways are in the seaThree hundred thousand men, but not enoughTo the Judge of Right and Wrong'T was in the piping time of peace
Under our curtain of fireUnder the tow-path past the bargesUnflinching hero, watchful to foresee
Was there love once? I have forgotten herWe are here in a wood of little beechesWe challenged Death. He threw with weighted diceWe may not know how fared your soul beforeWe willed it not. We have not lived in hateWhat have I givenWhat is the gift we have given thee, Sister?What of the faith and fire within usWhat was it kept you so long, brave German submersible?When battles were foughtWhen consciousness came back, he found he layWhen first I saw you in the curious streetWhen the fire sinks in the grate, and night has bentWhen there is Peace our land no moreWhence not unmoved I see the nations formWherever war, with its red woesWith arrows on their quarters and with numbers on their hoofsWith proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children
Ye sleepers, who will sing youYou dare to say with perjured lipsYou have become a forge of snow-white fire