Стихи и рассказы из категории war

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When a child,certain skies sharpened my vision:all their characters were reflected in my face
The Phenomena were roused
—At present,the eternal inflection of momentsand the infinity of mathematicsdrives me through this world whereI meet ...
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To Ezra
These are the names of the companies that have made money from this warnineteenhundredsixtyeight Annodomini fourthousand eighty
These are the Corporations who have profited by merchan- dising skinburning phosphorous or shells fra...
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The cold earth yields to the warm blood
The black soil incarnadined
Entangled in a rusty hue
Come morrow, the billows will rise
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ST
HE
LY
It is considered low to talk about food
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Oh, not the loss of the accomplished thing
Not dumb farewells, nor long relinquishment Of beauty had, and golden summer spent,
And savage glory of the fluttering Torn banners of the rain, and frosty ring Of moon-white winters, and the im...
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Dear
of all happy in the hour, most blest He who has found our hid security, Assured in the dark tides of the world that rest, And heard our word, 'Who is so safe as we
' We have found safety with all things undying, The winds, and morni...
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There was a king, now ageing,
With heart of lead, and head so grey
He took a wife, the old king,
A young wife too, men say
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Memorial day for the war dead
Add nowthe grief of all your losses to their grief,even of a woman that has left you
Mixsorrow with sorrow, like time-saving history,which stacks holiday and sacrifice and mourningon one day for easy, conven...
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GE waded through the weekly news, "The Income Tax, he said, "That's nowt to me,
I shallunt lose, 'Twill hit the boss instead
Lloyd George he be the man for I,
Us poor have nowt to fear
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For a saving grace, we didn't see our dead,
Who rarely bothered coming home to die But simply stayed away out there In the clean war, the war in the air
Seldom the ghosts come back bearing their tales Of hitting the earth, the incompress...
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If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign
That is for ever England
There shall
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Now light the candles; one; two; there’s a moth; What silly beggars they are to blunder in And scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame— No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war, When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;
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Now,
God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour,
And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,
With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power,
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My day was happy, fortunate my night
My People loved me when I struck the
Of Poetry
Passion was my song, and fire:
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These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth
The years had given them kindness
Dawn was theirs,
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'E sez to me, "Wot's orl this flamin' war
The papers torks uv nothin' else but scraps
An'wot's ole England got snake-'eaded for
An' wot's the strength uv callin' out our chaps
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