Category Archives: wwi poetry

Edmund Blunden, "Preparations For Victory"

Preparations For Victory My soul, dread not the pestilence that hags The valley; flinch not you, my body young. At these great shouting smokes and snarling jags Of fiery iron; as yet may not be flung The dice that claims … Continue reading

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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "Between the Lines"

Between the Lines When consciousness came back, he found he layBetween the opposing fires, but could not tellOn which hand were his friends; and either wayFor him to turn was chancy–bullet and shellWhistling and shrieking over him, as the glareOf … Continue reading

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Edward Thomas, "Lights Out"

Lights Out I have come to the borders of sleep,The unfathomable deepForest where all must loseTheir way, however straight,Or winding, soon or late;They cannot choose. Many a road and trackThat, since the dawn’s first crack,Up to the forest brink,Deceived the … Continue reading

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Edward Thomas, "As the Team’s Head-Brass"

As the Team’s Head-Brass As the team’s head-brass flashed out on the turn The lovers disappeared into the wood. I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm That strewed the angle of the fallow, and Watched the plough narrowing … Continue reading

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Gilbert Frankau, "Eyes in the Air"

Eyes in the Air Our guns are a league behind us, our target a mile below,And there’s never a cloud to blind us from the haunts of our lurking foe–Sunk pit whence his shrapnel tore us, support-trench crest concealed,As clear … Continue reading

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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "Retreat"

Retreat Broken, bewildered by the long retreat Across the stifling leagues of southern plain, Across the scorching leagues of trampled grain, Half-stunned, half-blinded, by the trudge of feet And dusty smother of the AugustHe dreamt of flowers in an English … Continue reading

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Edmund Blunden, “The Zonnebeke Road”

The Zonnebeke Road Morning, if this late withered light can claim Some kindred with that merry flame Which the young day was wont to fling through space! Agony stares from each grey face. And yet the day is come; stand … Continue reading

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Wilfred Wilson Gibson, "Breakfast"

Breakfast We ate our breakfast lying on our backs, Because the shells were screeching overhead. I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread That Hull United would beat Halifax When Jimmy Strainthorpe played full-back instead Of Billy Bradford. Ginger … Continue reading

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Edward Thomas, "A Private"

A Private This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doors Many’s a frozen night, and merrily Answered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores: ‘At Mrs Greenland’s Hawthorn Bush,’ said he, ‘I slept.’ None knew which bush. Above the … Continue reading

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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "The Joke"

The Joke He’d even have his joke While we were sitting tight, And so he needs must poke His silly head in sight To whisper some new jestChortling. But as he spoke A rifle cracked– And now God knows when … Continue reading

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