The Poet As Hero

You've heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented,

Mocking and loathing War: you've asked me why Of my old, silly sweetness I've repented— My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry.

You are aware that once I sought the Grail,

Riding in armour bright, serene and strong;

And it was told that through my infant wail There rose immortal semblances of song.

But now I've said good-bye to Galahad,

And am no more the knight of dreams and show:

For lust and senseless hatred make me glad,

And my killed friends are with me where I go.

Wound for red wound I burn to smite their wrongs;

And there is absolution in my songs.