Francis Ledwidge - SoliloquyFrancis Ledwidge - Soliloquy
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When I was young I had a care
Lest I should cheat me of my share
Of that which makes it sweet to strive
For life, and dying still survive,
A name in sunshine written higher
Than lark or poet dare aspire.
But I grew weary doing well.
Besides, `twas sweeter in that hell,
Down with the loud banditti people
Who robbed the orchards, climbed the steeple
For jackdaws` eyes and made the cock
Crow ere `twas daylight on the clock.
I was so very bad the neighbours
Spoke of me at their daily labours.
And now I`m drinking wine in France,
The helpless child of circumstance.
To-morrow will be loud with war,
How will I be accounted for?
It is too late now to retrieve
A fallen dream, too late to grieve
A name unmade, but not too late
To thank the gods for what is great;
A keen-edged sword, a soldier`s heart,
Is greater than a poet`s art.
And greater than a poet`s fame
A little grave that has no name.
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