Posted by zeugma on November 3, 2005, at 18:54:31
In reply to Re: poetry of WWI » alexandra_k, posted by Damos on November 3, 2005, at 14:58:36
ohhh, please, please don't get me started on the subject of WWI poetry.
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Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the north wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,
Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I.
All of the night was quite barred out except
An owl's cry, a most melancholy cryShaken out long and clear upon the hill,
No merry note, nor cause of merriment,
But one telling me plain what I escaped
And others could not, that night, as in I went.And salted was my food, and my repose,
salted and sobered too, by the bird's voice
Speaking for all who lay under the stars,
Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.-Edward Thomas (1878-1917)
A worm fed on the heart of Corinth,
Babylon and Rome;
Not Paris raped tall Helen,
But this incestuous worm,
Who lured her vivid beauty
To his amorphous sleep.
England! famous as Helen
Is thy betrothal sung
To him the shadowless,
More amorous than Solomon.-Isaac Rosenberg (1890-1918)
-z
poster:zeugma
thread:574822
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20051022/msgs/575124.html