"Is that the Three-and-Twentieth, Strabo mine, Marching below, and we still gulping wine?" From the sad magic of his fragrant cup The red-faced old centurion started up,...
When a dream is born in you With a sudden clamorous pain, When you know the dream is true And lovely, with no flaw nor stain, O then, be careful, or with sudden clutch...
Listen now this time Shortly to my rhyme That herewith starts About certain kind hearts In those stricken parts That lie behind Calais, Old crones and aged men...
Nine of the clock, oh! Wake my lazy head! Your shoes of red morocco, Your silk bed-gown: Rouse, rouse, speck-eyed Mary In your high bed! A yawn, a smile, sleepy-starey,...
He had met hours of the clock he never guessed before, Dumb, dragging, mirthless hours confused with dreams and fear, Bone-chilling, hungry hours when the gods sleep and snore,...
Back from the Somme two Fusiliers Limped painfully home; the elder said, S. "Robert, I've lived three thousand years This Summer, and I'm nine parts dead."...
Cry from the thicket my heart's bird! The other birds woke all around, Rising with toot and howl they stirred Their plumage, broke the trembling sound, They craned their necks, they fluttered wings,...
It doesn't matter what's the cause, What wrong they say we're righting, A curse for treaties, bonds and laws, When we're to do the fighting! And since we lads are proud and true,...