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The Arras Road

I The early night falls on the plain In cloud and desolating rain.

I see no more, but feel around The ruined earth, the wounded ground.

There in the dark, on either side The road, are all the brave who died.

I think not on the battles won;

I think on those whose day is done.

Heaped mud, blear pools, old rusted wire,

Cover their youth and young desire.

Near me they sleep, and they to me Are dearer than their victory.

II Where now are they who once had peace Here, and the fruitful tilth's increase?

Shattered is all their hands had made,

And the orchards where their children played.

But night, that brings the darkness, brings The heart back to its dearest things.

I feel old footsteps plodding slow On ways that they were used to know.

And from my own land, past the strait,

From homes that no more news await,

Absenting thoughts come hither flying To the unknown earth where Love is lying.

There are no stars to--night, but who Knows what far eyes of lovers true In star--like vigil, each alone Are watching now above their own?

II England and France unconscious tryst Keep in this void of shadowy mist By phantom Vimy, and mounds that tell Of ghostliness that was Gavrelle.

The rain comes wildly down to drench Disfeatured ridge, deserted trench.

Guns in the night, far, far away Thud on the front beyond Cambrai.

But here the night is holy, and here I will remember, and draw near,

And for a space, till night be sped,

Be with the beauty of the dead.

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Robert Laurence Binyon

Robert Laurence Binyon, CH (10 August 1869 – 10 March 1943) was an English poet, dramatist and art scholar. Born in Lancaster, England, his pare…
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