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Francis Ledwidge - Soliloquy
Work rating: Medium

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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