Good poems
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Requiem for the Plantagenet Kings
© Geoffrey Hill
For whom the possessed sea littered, on both shores,
Ruinous arms; being fired, and for good,
To sound the constitution of just wards,
Men, in their eloquent fashion, understood.
Lincoln, The Man Of The People
© Edwin Markham
WHEN the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down
To make a man to meet the mortal need.
The Choral Union
© Siegfried Sassoon
He staggered in from night and frost and fog
And lampless streets: hed guzzled like a hog
And drunk till he was dazed. And now he came
To hearhe couldnt call to mind the name
But hed been given a ticket for the show,
And thought hed (hiccup) chance his luck and go.
The Investiture
© Siegfried Sassoon
If I were there wed snowball Death with skulls;
Or ride away to hunt in Devils Wood
With ghosts of puppies that we walked of old.
But youre alone; and solitude annuls
Our earthly jokes; and strangely wise and good
You roam forlorn along the streets of gold.
Break of Day
© Siegfried Sassoon
There seemed a smell of autumn in the air
At the bleak end of night; he shivered there
In a dank, musty dug-out where he lay,
Legs wrapped in sand-bags,lumps of chalk and clay
A Subaltern
© Siegfried Sassoon
But as he stamped and shivered in the rain,
My stale philosophies had served him well;
Dreaming about his girl had sent his brain
Blanker than evershed no place in Hell....
Good God! he laughed, and slowly filled his pipe,
Wondering why he always talked such tripe.
Together
© Siegfried Sassoon
Splashing along the boggy woods all day,
And over brambled hedge and holding clay,
I shall not think of him:
But when the watery fields grow brown and dim,
Morning-Glory
© Siegfried Sassoon
Clear the sunlit steeples chime
Marys coronation-time.
Loud the happy children quire
To the golden-windowed morn;
While the lord of their desire
Sleeps below the crimson thorn.
The Old Huntsman
© Siegfried Sassoon
Id have been prosperous if Id took a farm
Of fifty acres, drove my gig and haggled
At Monday markets; now Ive squandered all
My savings; nigh three hundred pound I got
As testimonial when Id grown too stiff
And slow to press a beaten fox.
To Any Dead Officer
© Siegfried Sassoon
Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish youd say,
Because Id like to know that youre all right.
Tell me, have you found everlasting day,
Or been sucked in by everlasting night?
Stand-To: Good Friday Morning
© Siegfried Sassoon
Id been on duty from two till four.
I went and stared at the dug-out door.
Down in the frowst I heard them snore.
Stand to! Somebody grunted and swore.
David Cleek
© Siegfried Sassoon
I cannot think that Death will press his claim
To snuff you out or put you off your game:
Youll still contrive to play your steady round,
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground,
And darkness blur the sandy-skirted green
Where silence gulfs the shot you strike so clean.
The Redeemer
© Siegfried Sassoon
Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep;
It was past twelve on a mid-winter night,
When peaceful folk in beds lay snug asleep;
There, with much work to do before the light,
What the Captain Said at the Point-to-Point
© Siegfried Sassoon
Ive had a good bump round; my little horse
Refused the brook first time,
Then jumped it prime;
And ran out at the double,
Died of Wounds
© Siegfried Sassoon
His wet white face and miserable eyes
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell
His troubled voice: he did the business well.
The Poet as Hero
© Siegfried Sassoon
You've heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented,
Mocking and loathing War: you've asked me why
Of my old, silly sweetness I've repented--
My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry.
A Whispered Tale
© Siegfried Sassoon
Id heard fool-heroes brag of where theyd been,
With stories of the glories that theyd seen.
But you, good simple soldier, seasoned well
In woods and posts and crater-lines of hell,
The General
© Siegfried Sassoon
Good-morning; good-morning! the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of em dead,
And were cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
Hes a cheery old card, grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.
Lamentations
© Siegfried Sassoon
I found him in the guard-room at the Base.
From the blind darkness I had heard his crying
And blundered in. With puzzled, patient face
A sergeant watched him; it was no good trying
The Kiss
© Siegfried Sassoon
To these I turn, in these I trust;
Brother Lead and Sister Steel.
To his blind power I make appeal;
I guard her beauty clean from rust.
