|
|
 |
|
|
The Farmer remembers the Somme
|
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
Will they never fade or pass! The mud, and the misty figures endlessly coming In file through the foul morass, And the grey flood-water ripping the reeds and grass, And the steel wings drumming.
The hills are bright in the sun: There's nothing changed or marred in the well-known places; When work for the day is done There's talk, and quiet laughter, and gleams of fun On the old folks' faces.
I have returned to these: The farm, and the kindly Bush, and the young calves lowing; But all that my mind sees Is a quaking bog in a mist - stark, snapped trees, And the dark Somme flowing.
Vance Palmer
|
|
Read poems about / on: fun, laughter, work, water, dark, sun, change, remember, tree
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|