BALLADENo.1

BALLADENo.1

BALLADENo.1

Bodiesof comrade soldiers gleaming whiteWithin the mill-pool where you float and diveAnd lounge around part-clothed or naked quite;Beautiful shining forms of men alive,O living lutes stringed with the senses fiveFor Love’s sweet fingers; seeing Fate afar,My very soul with Death for you must strive;Because of you I loathe the name of War.But O you piteous corpses yellow-black,Rotting unburied in the sunbeam’s light,With teeth laid bare by yellow lips curled backMost hideously; whose tortured souls took flightLeaving your limbs, all mangled by the fight,In attitudes of horror fouler farThan dreams which haunt a devil’s brain at night;Because of you I loathe the name of War.Mothers and maids who loved you, and the wivesBereft of your sweet presences; yea, allWho knew you beautiful; and those small livesMade of that knowledge; O, and you who callFor life (but vainly now) from that dark hallWhere wait the Unborn, and the loves which areIn future generations to befall;Because of you I loathe the name of War.L’ENVOIPrince Jesu, hanging stark upon a treeCrucified as the malefactors areThat man and man henceforth should brothers be;Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Bodiesof comrade soldiers gleaming whiteWithin the mill-pool where you float and diveAnd lounge around part-clothed or naked quite;Beautiful shining forms of men alive,O living lutes stringed with the senses fiveFor Love’s sweet fingers; seeing Fate afar,My very soul with Death for you must strive;Because of you I loathe the name of War.But O you piteous corpses yellow-black,Rotting unburied in the sunbeam’s light,With teeth laid bare by yellow lips curled backMost hideously; whose tortured souls took flightLeaving your limbs, all mangled by the fight,In attitudes of horror fouler farThan dreams which haunt a devil’s brain at night;Because of you I loathe the name of War.Mothers and maids who loved you, and the wivesBereft of your sweet presences; yea, allWho knew you beautiful; and those small livesMade of that knowledge; O, and you who callFor life (but vainly now) from that dark hallWhere wait the Unborn, and the loves which areIn future generations to befall;Because of you I loathe the name of War.L’ENVOIPrince Jesu, hanging stark upon a treeCrucified as the malefactors areThat man and man henceforth should brothers be;Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Bodiesof comrade soldiers gleaming whiteWithin the mill-pool where you float and diveAnd lounge around part-clothed or naked quite;Beautiful shining forms of men alive,O living lutes stringed with the senses fiveFor Love’s sweet fingers; seeing Fate afar,My very soul with Death for you must strive;Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Bodiesof comrade soldiers gleaming white

Within the mill-pool where you float and dive

And lounge around part-clothed or naked quite;

Beautiful shining forms of men alive,

O living lutes stringed with the senses five

For Love’s sweet fingers; seeing Fate afar,

My very soul with Death for you must strive;

Because of you I loathe the name of War.

But O you piteous corpses yellow-black,Rotting unburied in the sunbeam’s light,With teeth laid bare by yellow lips curled backMost hideously; whose tortured souls took flightLeaving your limbs, all mangled by the fight,In attitudes of horror fouler farThan dreams which haunt a devil’s brain at night;Because of you I loathe the name of War.

But O you piteous corpses yellow-black,

Rotting unburied in the sunbeam’s light,

With teeth laid bare by yellow lips curled back

Most hideously; whose tortured souls took flight

Leaving your limbs, all mangled by the fight,

In attitudes of horror fouler far

Than dreams which haunt a devil’s brain at night;

Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Mothers and maids who loved you, and the wivesBereft of your sweet presences; yea, allWho knew you beautiful; and those small livesMade of that knowledge; O, and you who callFor life (but vainly now) from that dark hallWhere wait the Unborn, and the loves which areIn future generations to befall;Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Mothers and maids who loved you, and the wives

Bereft of your sweet presences; yea, all

Who knew you beautiful; and those small lives

Made of that knowledge; O, and you who call

For life (but vainly now) from that dark hall

Where wait the Unborn, and the loves which are

In future generations to befall;

Because of you I loathe the name of War.

L’ENVOI

L’ENVOI

Prince Jesu, hanging stark upon a treeCrucified as the malefactors areThat man and man henceforth should brothers be;Because of you I loathe the name of War.

Prince Jesu, hanging stark upon a tree

Crucified as the malefactors are

That man and man henceforth should brothers be;

Because of you I loathe the name of War.


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