The Oldest Drama
"It fell on a day, that he went out to his father to the reapers. And he said unto his father,
My head, my head. And he said to a lad, Carry him to his mother. And . . . he sat on her knees till noon, and then died. And she went up, and laid him on the bed. . . . And shut the door upon him and went out."Immortal story that no mother's heart Ev'n yet can read, nor feel the biting
That rent her soul! Immortal not by art Which makes a long past sorrow sting
Like grief of yesterday: but since it said In simplest word the truth which all may see,
Where any mother sobs above her dead And plays anew the silent tragedy.
John McCrae
Other author posts
Disarmament
One spake amid the nations, Let us cease From darkening with strife the fair World's light, We who are great in war be great in peace No longer let us plead the cause by might But from a million British graves took birth...
The Harvest Of The Sea
The earth grows white with harvest; all day long The sickles gleam, until the darkness Her web of silence o'er the thankful song Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear, And men go fo...
Isandlwana
Scarlet coats, and crash o' the band, The grey of a pauper's gown, A soldier's grave in Zululand, And a woman in Brecon Town My little lad for a soldier boy, (Mothers o' Brecon Town )My eyes for tears and his for joy When he went from Br...
Then And Now
Beneath her window in the fragrant night I half forget how truant years have Since I looked up to see her chamber-light, Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow Upon the casement; but the nodding leaves Sweep lazily across the unlit...