Share:
  Guess poet | Poets | Poets timeline | Isles | Contacts

Robert Nichols - At the WarsRobert Nichols - At the Wars
Work rating: Low


Now that I am ta`en away And may not see another day What is it to my eye appears? What sound rings in my stricken ears? Not even the voice of any friend Or eyes beloved-world-without-end, But scenes and sounds of the country-side In far England across the tide: An upland field when spring`s begun, Mellow beneath the evening sun…. A circle of loose and lichened wall Over which seven red pines fall…. An orchard of wizen blossoming trees Wherein the nesting chaffinches Begin again the self-same song All the late April day-time long…. Paths that lead a shelving course Between the chalk scarp and the gorse By English downs; and oh! too well I hear the hidden, clanking bell Of wandering sheep…. I see the brown Twilight of the huge, empty down Soon blotted out! for now a lane Glitters with warmth of May-time rain. And on a shooting briar I see A yellow bird who sings to me. O yellow-hammer, once I heard Thy yaffle when no other bird Could to my sunk heart comfort bring; But now I could not have thee sing So sharp thy note is with the pain Of England I may not see again! Yet sing thy song: there answereth Deep in me a voice which saith: "The gorse upon the twilit down, The English loam so sunset brown, The bowed pines and the sheep-bells` clamour, The wet, lit lane and the yellow-hammer, The orchard and the chaffinch song Only to the Brave belong. And he shall lose their joy for aye If their price he cannot pay. Who shall find them dearer far Enriched by blood alter long war."
Source

The script ran 0.001 seconds.