Ivor Gurney

(1890-1937 / England)

Ivor Gurney Poems

1. Brown Earth Look 8/31/2010
2. Defiance 8/31/2010
3. Drachms + Scruples 8/31/2010
4. Encounters 8/31/2010
5. Generations (The Ploughed Field And The Fallow Field) 8/31/2010
6. Generations (The Ploughed Field And The Fallow Field) 8/31/2010
7. Generations (There Are Mummers Yet On Cotswold) 8/31/2010
8. Hedger 8/31/2010
9. Hedges 8/31/2010
10. Kettle-Song 8/31/2010
11. La Gorgues 8/31/2010
12. Cut Flowers 8/31/2010
13. Daily 8/31/2010
14. Lovely Playthings 8/31/2010
15. Midnight 8/31/2010
16. Near Vermand 8/31/2010
17. New Year's Eve 8/31/2010
18. Old Thought 8/31/2010
19. Old Times 8/31/2010
20. Personages 8/31/2010
21. Snow 8/31/2010
22. Robecq Again 8/31/2010
23. Saturday's Comings 8/31/2010
24. Sonnet. September 1922 8/31/2010
25. Stars Sliding 8/31/2010
26. The Change 8/31/2010
27. The Cloud 8/31/2010
28. The Comparison 8/31/2010
29. The Escape 8/31/2010
30. The Garden 8/31/2010
31. The Incense Bearers 8/31/2010
32. The Miracles 8/31/2010
33. The Road 8/31/2010
34. The Soaking 8/31/2010
35. The Square Thing 8/31/2010
36. The Valley 8/31/2010
37. There Is A Man 8/31/2010
38. Toussaints (Toj.W.H.) 8/31/2010
39. Turmut-Hoeing 8/31/2010
40. Walking Song 8/31/2010
Best Poem of Ivor Gurney

The Target

I shot him, and it had to be
One of us 'Twas him or me.
'Couln't be helped' and none can blame
Me, for you would do the same

My mother, she cant sleep for fear
Of what might be a-happening here
To me. Perhaps it might be best
To die, and set her fears at rest

For worst is worst, and worry's done.
Perhaps he was the only son. . .
Yet God keeps still, and does not say
A word of guidance anyway.

Well, if they get me, first I'll find
That boy, and tell him all my mind,
And see who felt the bullet worst,
And ask his pardon,if I...

Read the full of The Target

Above Ashleworth

O does some blind fool now stand on my hill
To see how Ashleworth nestles by the river?
Where eyes and heart and soul may drink their fill

The Cotswolds range out Eastward as if never
A curve of them the hand of Time might change;
Beauty sleeps most confidently for ever.

The blind fool stands, his dull eyes free to range

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