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The Seashell Anthology of Great Poetry Page 11


  Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.

  For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.

  There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;

  And God will grow no talons at his heels,

  Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.

  Wilfred Owen, 1918

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Jeffers

  Antrim

  No spot of earth where men have so fiercely

  for ages of time

  Fought and survived and cancelled each other,

  Pict and Gael and Dane, McQuillan, Clandonnel,

  O'Neill,

  Savages, the Scot, the Norman, the English,

  Here in the narrow passage and the pitiless

  north, perpetual

  Betrayals, relentless resultless fighting.

  A random fury of dirks in the dark:

  a struggle for survival

  Of hungry blind cells of life in the womb.

  But now the womb has grown old, her strength

  has gone forth; a few red carts in a fog

  creak flax to the dubs,

  And sheep in the high heather cry hungrily that

  life is hard; a plaintive peace; shepherds

  and peasants.

  We have felt the blades meet in the flesh in a

  hundred ambushes

  And the groaning blood bubble in the throat;

  In a hundred battles the heavy axes bite the

  deep bone,

  The mountain suddenly stagger and be darkened.

  Generation on generation we have seen the

  blood of boys

  And heard the moaning of women massacred,

  The passionate flesh and nerves have flamed

  like pitch-pine and fallen

  And lain in the earth softly dissolving.

  I have lain and been humbled in all these graves,

  and mixed new flesh with the old and filled

  the hollow of my mouth

  With maggots and rotten dust and ages of repose.

  I lie here and plot the agony of resurrection.

  Robinson Jeffers, 1931

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Sassoon

  The Rear Guard

  Groping along the tunnel, step by step,

  He winked his prying torch with patching glare

  From side to side, and sniffed the

  unwholesome air.

  Tins, boxes, bottles, shapes too vague to know,

  A mirror smashed, the mattress from a bed;

  And he, exploring fifty feet below

  The rosy gloom of battle overhead.

  Tripping, he grabbed the wall; saw someone lie

  Humped at his feet, half-hidden by a rug,

  And stooped to give the sleeper's arm a tug.

  "I'm looking for headquarters." No reply.

  "God blast your neck!"

  (For days he'd had no sleep.)

  "Get up and guide me through this

  stinking place."

  Savage, he kicked a soft, unanswering heap,

  And flashed his beam across the livid face

  Terribly glaring up, whose eyes yet wore

  Agony dying hard ten days before;

  And fists of fingers clutched a blackening wound.

  Alone, he staggered on until he found

  Dawn's ghost that filtered down a shafted stair

  To the dazed, muttering creatures underground

  Who hear the boom of shells in muffled sound.

  At last, with sweat of horror in his hair,

  He climbed through darkness to the twilight air,

  Unloading hell behind him step by step.

  Siegfried Sassoon, 1918

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Jarrell

  Losses

  It was not dying: everybody died.

  It was not dying: we had died before

  In the routine crashes—and our fields

  Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,

  And the rates rose, all because of us.

  We died on the wrong page of the almanac,

  Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;

  Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,

  We blazed up on the lines we never saw.

  We died like aunts or pets or foreigners.

  (When we left high school nothing else

  had died

  For us to figure we had died like.)

  In our new planes, with our new crews,

  we bombed

  The ranges by the desert or the shore,

  Fired at towed targets, waited for our scores—

  And turned into replacements and woke up

  One morning, over England, operational.

  It wasn't different: but if we died

  It was not an accident but a mistake

  (But an easy one for anyone to make).

  We read our mail and counted up our missions—

  In bombers named for girls, we burned

  The cities we had learned about in school—

  Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among

  The people we had killed and never seen.

  When we lasted long enough they gave us medals;

  When we died they said, "Our casualties

  were low."

  They said, "Here are the maps"; we burned

  the cities.

  It was not dying—no, not ever dying;

  But the night I died I dreamed that I was dead,

  And the cities said to me: "Why are you dying"

  We are satisfied, if you are; but why did I die?"

  Randall Jarrell, 1944

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Whitman

  Reconciliation

  Word over all, beautiful as the sky,

  Beautiful that war and all its deeds of

  carnage must in time be utterly lost,

  That the hands of the sisters Death and Night

  incessantly softly wash again, and ever again,

  this soiled world;

  For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself

  is dead,

  I look where he lies white-faced and still

  in the coffin—

  I draw near,

  Bend down and touch lightly with my lips

  the white face in the coffin.

  Walt Whitman, 1865

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Sandburg

  Buttons

  I have been watching the war map slammed up

  for advertising in front of the newspaper

  office.

  Buttons, red and yellow buttons, blue and black buttons, are shoved back and forth across the map.

  A laughing young man, sunny with freckles,

  Climbs a ladder, yells a joke to somebody in the crowd,

  And then fixes a yellow button one inch west

  And follows the yellow button with a black button one inch west.

  (Ten thousand men and boys twist on their bodies in a red soak along a river edge,

  Gasping of wounds, calling for water, some rattling death in their throats.)

  Who would guess what it cost to move two buttons one inch on the war map here in front of the newspaper office where the freckle-faced young man is laughing to us?

  Carl Sandburg, 1915

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Anonymous

  The Three Ravens

  There were three ravens sat on a tree,

  They were as black as they might be.

  The one of them said to his mate,

  "Where shall we our breakfast take?"

  "Down in yonder green field

  There lies a knight slain under his shield;

  "His hounds they lie down at his feet,

  So well they can their master keep;

  "His hawks they fly so eagerly,

  There's no fowl dare come him nigh."

  Down there comes a fallow doe

  As great with young as she might go.

 
She lifted up his bloody head

  And kissed his wounds that were so red.

  She got him up upon her back

  And carried him to earthen lake.

  She buried him before the prime;

  She was dead herself ere even-song time.

  God send every gentleman

  Such hawks, such hounds, and such a leman.

  Anonymous, 1611

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Housman

  Here dead lie we because we did

  not choose

  Here dead lie we because we did not choose

  To live and shame the land from which

  we sprung.

  Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;

  But young men think it is, and we were young.

  A. E. Housman, 1936

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> McCrae

  In Flanders Fields

  In Flanders fields the poppies blow

  Between the crosses, row on row,

  That mark our place; and in the sky

  The larks, still bravely singing, fly

  Scarce heard amid the guns below.

  We are the Dead. Short days ago

  We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

  Loved and were loved, and now we lie

  In Flanders fields.

  Take up our quarrel with the foe:

  To you from failing hands we throw

  The torch; be yours to hold it high.

  If ye break faith with us who die

  We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

  In Flanders fields.

  John McCrae, 1915

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Sandburg

  Grass

  Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.

  Shovel them under and let me work—

  I am the grass; I cover all.

  And pile them high at Gettysburg

  And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.

  Shovel them under and let me work.

  Two years, ten years, and passengers

  ask the conductor:

  What place is this?

  Where are we now?

  I am the grass.

  Let me work.

  Carl Sandburg, 1918

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Arnold

  Dover Beach

  The sea is calm tonight.

  The tide is full, the moon lies fair

  Upon the straits; on the French coast the light

  Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

  Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

  Come to the window, sweet is the night air!

  Only, from the long line of spray

  Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

  Listen! you hear the grating roar

  Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

  At their return, up the high strand,

  Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

  With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

  The eternal note of sadness in.

  Sophocles long ago

  Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought

  Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

  Of human misery; we

  Find also in the sound a thought,

  Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

  The Sea of Faith

  Was once, too, at the full, and round

  earth's shore

  Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

  But now I only hear

  Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

  Retreating, to the breath

  Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear

  And naked shingles of the world.

  Ah, love, let us be true

  To one another! for the world, which seems

  To lie before us like a land of dreams,

  So various, so beautiful, so new,

  Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

  Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

  And we are here as on a darkling plain

  Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

  Where ignorant armies clash by night.

  Matthew Arnold, 1867

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Kipling

  Recessional

  God of our fathers, known of old,

  Lord of our far-flung battle line,

  Beneath whose awful hand we hold

  Dominion over palm and pine—

  Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

  Lest we forget—Lest we forget!

  The tumult and the shouting dies;

  The Captains and the Kings depart:

  Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

  An humble and a contrite heart.

  Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

  Lest we forget—lest we forget!

  Far-called our navies melt away;

  On dune and headland sinks the fire:

  Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

  Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

  Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,

  Lest we forget—lest we forget!

  If, drunk with sight of power, we loose

  Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,

  Such boasting as the Gentiles use,

  Or lesser breeds without the Law—

  Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

  Lest we forget—lest we forget!

  For heathen heart that puts her trust

  In reeking tube and iron shard,

  All valiant dust that builds on dust,

  And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,

  For frantic boast and foolish word—

  Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!

  Rudyard Kipling, 1897

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Levertov

  What Were They Like?

  1) Did the people of Viet Nam use lanterns

  of stone?

  2) Did they hold ceremonies to reverence the

  opening of buds?

  3) Were they inclined to quiet laughter?

  4) Did they use bone and ivory, jade and silver,

  for ornament?

  5) Had they an epic poem?

  6) Did they distinguish between speech and

  singing?

  1) Sir, their light hearts turned to stone.

  It is not remembered whether in gardens

  stone lanterns illumined pleasant ways.

  2) Perhaps they gathered once to delight in

  blossom, but after the children were killed

  there were no more buds.

  3) Sir, laughter is bitter to the burned mouth.

  4) A dream ago, perhaps. Ornament is for joy.

  All the bones were charred.

  5) It is not remembered. Remember, most

  were peasants; their life was in rice and

  bamboo. When peaceful clouds were

  reflected in the paddies and the water buffalo

  stepped surely along terraces, maybe fathers

  told their sons old tales. When bombs

  smashed those mirrors there was time

  only to scream.

  6) There is an echo yet of their speech which was

  like a song. It was reported their singing

  resembled the flight of moths in moonlight.

  Who can say? It is silent now.

  Denise Levertov, 1966

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Sexton

  I'm dreaming the My Lai soldier

  again

  I'm dreaming the My Lai soldier again,

  I'm dreaming the My Lai soldier

  night after night.

  He rings the doorbell like the Fuller Brush Man

  and wants to shake hands with me

  and I do because it would be rude to say no

  and I look at my hand and it is green

  with intestines.

  And they won't come off,

  they won't. He apologizes for this
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br />   over and over.

  The My Lai soldier lifts me up again and again

  and lowers me down with the other dead

  women and babies

  saying, It's my job. It's my job.

  Then he gives me a bullet to swallow

  like a sleeping tablet.

  I am lying in this belly of dead babies

  each one belching up the yellow gasses of death

  and their mothers tumble, eyeballs,

  knees, upon me,

  each for the last time, each authentically dead.

  The soldier stands on a stepladder above us

  pointing his red penis right at me and saying,

  Don't take this personally.

  Anne Sexton, 1969

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Blake

  And did those feet in

  ancient time

  And did those feet in ancient time

  Walk upon England's mountains green?

  And was the holy Lamb of God

  On England's pleasant pastures seen?

  And did the Countenance Divine

  Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

  And was Jerusalem builded here,

  Among these dark Satanic Mills?

  Bring me my bow of burning gold:

  Bring me my arrows of desire:

  Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!

  Bring me my Chariot of fire!

  I will not cease from Mental Fight,

  Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,

  Till we have built Jerusalem

  In England's green & pleasant Land.

  William Blake, 1810

  Next | TOC> Arms and the Boy> Shakespeare

  Once more unto the breach

  KING HENRY: Once more unto the breach,

  dear friends, once more;

  Or close the wall up with our English dead.

  In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

  As modest stillness and humility:

  But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

  Then imitate the action of the tiger;

  Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,